Harry Potter and the Curious Case of Severus Snape
by SiofraPrince
Summary: AU. Harry Potter tries to decipher the enigma that is his Potion's Professor throughout his years at Hogwarts. A series of snap-shots from years 1-7, that follows his journey to discover the true Professor Snape, while navigating confusion caused by the main players of Hogwarts who demand his loyalty and irritation simultaneously.
1. Now You See It Now You Don't

**Hey guys, it's me again! School is hitting me pretty hard; I have mock exams in a week, plus prep for Scholarship English and Music and a Film assessment due in two weeks. However, I am trying to finish For There to be Light, and will hopefully have finished it by the end of the year. Anything further than that will be a half-job.**

 **This is one of my weekly writing attempts, that I unfortunately wasn't allowed to use in school for copyright issues. Nevertheless, I thought it was worth posting, and hopefully you will too.**

 **Enjoy!**

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"Abysmal at best…"

"Useless…"

"Clearly fame isn't everything…"

"Perhaps you should consider opening a book…"

"Pay attention!"

"Dunderhead…"

"Insufferable brat…"

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The words rolled off the boy; insults were nothing new to him. His uncle had called him far worse. This teacher was merely adding bricks to the wall, thickening his skin and building his defences. It wasn't his teachers fault; the boy was certain of this. The teacher wasn't aware of what the boy faced when he went back home.

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 _Home._

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Such a stupid word. Home was supposed to ignite warmth, and love, and happiness and the mere mention of it. His home practically oozed hate, terror, animosity and disgust; the boy certainly didn't want to go home to that. But, no matter what he said, he was ignored.

His old teachers had accused him of telling lies, what's to say that the ones here wouldn't do the same? They all expected something of him, and he didn't know what. Would they even believe him?

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A swirl of black entered his vision, and the boy focused on the potion at hand. His partner, a red-haired boy named Ronald, was haphazardly tossing ingredients in, while across the aisle, a bushy-haired girl named Hermione was religiously following the instructions on the board, muttering under her breath every so often.

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Ronald and Hermione seemed to be under the odd impression that they were his best friends. The problem was, the boy felt no affection for them. His best friends were a shy boy in his dorm called Neville, and a few from the other Houses, including Slytherin. Whatever claptrap the red-head was trying to sell about Slytherin's being evil was definitely not worth his notice.

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Across from him, Neville was diligently trying not to blow up his cauldron, using his book to follow the recipe instead of the board. Neville looked over, and the boy rolled his eyes at his partner, whose cauldron was now emitting yellowy brown smoke. Neville hid a grin, and focused on his own potion when the teacher walked past, avoiding the black gaze.

.

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"Pathetic, Weasley. I suppose that you added the foxglove before the baneberry?"

Weasley looked flustered, and right on cue, a whole foxglove flower floated to the top of the potion.

The boy frowned, and checked the board.

' _Three teaspoons of ground foxglove. Stir three times clockwise, three anticlockwise, then three clockwise.'_

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"Idiot." The boy muttered under his breath, before reading the directions again, his lips twisting into a twisted smile at the irony. He measured out the ground foxglove, and carefully put it in, making sure not to splash the potion over the sides. He grabbed the stirrer, and began.

"Thus do go about, about: Thrice to thine and thrice to mine, and thrice once more to make it nine. Peace! The charm's wound up."

He muttered under his breath, the twisted smile lingering faintly on his face.

.

A timer went off, and the boy waved his wand over the potion, watching it turn a dark, silvery grey. The boy frowned. It was almost perfect; just a shade too dark. Nevertheless, it was far better that last week's attempt.

It was then that he became aware of a dark, looking presence next to him. The boy took an involuntary step backwards, turning to face his teacher. He met his eyes, and froze.

.

 _There._

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Flickering off the surface was a mixture of pride, respect, and… _concern_ , even as his teacher looked down towards his uncovered wrists, and by extension, the scars that littered them. Then it was shock, anger and thoughtfulness, and possibly guilt.

.

As quickly as he saw, it was gone just as rapidly, and the stone cold, blank face was in its place once more. The boy hid his arms as Weasley looked over, and the teacher sneered.

"Adequate. Obviously you headed my advice and picked up a textbook over the weekend."

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The boy flinched minutely at the barb, before nodding.

"Yes, sir." He murmured, reaching for the glass vials. The teacher nodded, and swept past, raising an incredulous eyebrow towards Neville's almost perfect potion (it looked like his), before barking at Neville to bottle his potion.

The boy hurried to finish bottling, ignoring the whining of Ronald, who had failed yet again, and the mutterings of Hermione, whose potion was two shades too light.

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The bell rung, and students hurried to pack up their bag and get to dinner, before a voice called out over the din.

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"Mr. Potter, please stay behind."

 **.**

Harry jumped, and glanced towards his teacher, who was looking at him with an indecipherable look.

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"Yes, sir." He replied, nodding towards his Professor.

Ronald mumbled something about slimy gits and greasy snakes, and Harry passed his bag to Neville, ignoring Ronald's protests. The classroom door shut, and Harry turned towards his Professor, hope starting to burn once more in his chest.

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Maybe, just maybe, the teacher would listen and believe him this time.

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 **Ta da! Short, but there may be others coming that cover Harry's years from 1-7 on his point of view on Professor Snape. I don't know, it's all up to you, the reader, to tell me if you want more.**

 **Till next time,**

 **Siofra**


	2. He Wasn't Staring

**As promised, the next one is here, but the 3rd one may be late, due to Mock exams slapping me in the face and performing a lobotomy upon my cranium. This is, yes, a soulmate! fic, because I had to do one eventually, so I might as well get it out of the way. Anyway here it is, so enjoy!**

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No one knew what to expect of the teacher's soulmates.

True, it was common knowledge that everyone had their soulmate's handwriting on their skin somewhere, the most common being the wrist or the arm, but the students of Hogwarts never pictured their teachers in a romantic setting, let alone having soulmates. Of course, it was always there, but they never paid much attention to the marks, apart from a cursory glance.

Professor Sinistra had sloping cursive on her neck, trailing up behind her ear, written in a language none of them knew. Professor Vector was rumoured to have one on her ankle, as seen by the Ravenclaw female prefect who was her star student. Professor Babbling always had a few letters peeking out from underneath the collar of his teaching robes, and Professor Burbage had delicate script across the back of her hand. Professor's Snape, McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick, Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey always kept theirs covered up. No one really cared about Trelawney.

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So, when Dumbledore announced a week before Valentine's Day that all soulmates were coming to Hogwarts to be with their loved ones, the school erupted into chaos. Letters were sent, planning went underway (with Gilderoy Lockhart at the centre of it all, it was his idea), and the majority of the teachers walked around with a scowl, muttering things under their breath about the death of Gilderoy Lockhart.

Snape and McGonagall seemed particularly mad, with McGonagall docking points within her classroom at the mere mention of Valentine's Day, and Snape giving detentions if the world soulmate was even _breathed._

Harry Potter observed all of these things, even as his own soulmark faded and flared at random intervals, although his scar wasn't hurting, and he avoided Professor Lockhart like the plague, and hung out with Neville and his soulmate Luna, as well as Hermione (who was avoiding Ron, who had been claiming that Hermione was his soulmate, although he'd never said the words that circled her calf).

When the day of February 14th dawned, Harry went for his usual morning run before his dorm mates woke up, hoping to avoid the argument with Ron that always seemed to happen. He passed the giggling portraits, and grimaced at the sight of all the pink and white streamers that littered the halls, and made his way out to the forest to run the centaur paths. They allowed him to run the paths, much to his surprise, although he figured that it was because he was merely a "foal", and not an adult. His run was slower than usual; prolonging the inevitable madness that was sure to be Valentine's Day, and a deep set reluctance to return to the castle. He was passing the large clearing where the Thestrals usually grazed (Luna had shown him), when he heard the low baritone of his Potions Professor.

Stopping, and making his way quietly to the clearing, he peered around a tree, spotting his Professor instantly. The tall man was sitting down, leaning against a Thestral, who was enjoying the dark wizard's fingers running through its mane.

"…completely ridiculous. What about the people who have lost their soulmates? Minerva isn't over Calum, and Poppy still mourns Doc Pomfrey. Irma lost hers in an accident recently, and Filch has never met his. Just because that stupid moron who almost blew himself up in second year with his own wand hasn't met his soulmate yet, doesn't mean that the rest of us haven't."

There was silence.

"I'm sorry, you probably don't what to hear all this. I'll leave you to your breakfast, then, Gwyn. Hopefully I won't be back to rant some more within the next four hours."

The Thestral nickered, and lipped at Snape's sleeve. Snape shook his head.

"No, I don't think she'll come; she's in hospital. She does get discharged in three days, so I'm leaving early on a Friday night. She had a relapse three months ago."

The Thestral snorted, and Snape's face broke out into a small grin.

"Yeah, I know. I'm giving her flowers when she comes home. She hates seeing flowers in hospitals; she told me off last time for thinking that she was going to die. Listen, I'll be back at sundown with some meat, yea? Thanks for listening."

The Thestral nudged him, and shook its mane. Snape smirked, and then started towards the path. Harry stepped backwards, and a twig snapped under his feet. Snape stiffened, and spun around, his black eyes meeting Harry's green, before he relaxed, and moved towards him.

"Mr Potter." His tone was weary, but not unwelcoming. Harry steeped out from behind the bush he had hidden behind, and flushed.

"Hello, Professor,' he whispered, 'I'm sorry for hiding and overhearing your…conversation."

Professor Snape sighed.

"It's quite alright, Mr. Potter. I'm merely relieved that you weren't Skeeter. How much did you hear?"

Harry scuffed his toe on the ground, and found the leaf on the branch next to him very interesting. He looked up.

"Did Professor McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey really lose their soulmates? And Auntie Irma as well?" He whispered, voice sad.

Professor Snape stiffened, but nodded, placing a hand on his shoulder and leading Harry back to Hogwarts.

"Calum McGonagall was killed after successfully smuggling hundreds of muggleborns out of Britain during the first war with the Dark Lord. Doctor Pomfrey was hit with the Killing Curse as he tried to save Lord Greengrass during an attack on the Wizengamot, also during the first war. Gareth Pince was in a car accident last summer. Collision with a truck."

Harry nodded, silent, knowing how bad car accidents could be.

"Just don't mention this to anyone, Mr Potter. It may have been many years ago, but it still hurts."

There was something in Professor Snape's voice that was raw, and aching, and Harry knew, in that instant, that Professor Snape had lost someone very close to him.

"Yes, sir."

The remainder of the walk was spent in comfortable silence, neither saying anything, neither needing to.

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The hall was even worse at breakfast, when all the students and their soulmates were together, exchanging roses and cards, and chocolate. Professor Lockhart was at the centre of it all, handing out pre-written cards with his signature on them, and congratulating couples. The teachers table had been replaced with a table much like the House tables, but with a rainbow coloured banner which completely screamed " _Dumbledore"_.

Professor's Vector and Sinistra sat close together, while Babbling sat next to a fae-like woman with light blue hair. McGonagall, Pomfrey, Trelawney and Pince sat in a huddle, offering comfort, but providing no opportunity for Lockhart to come over. Filch and Binns were nowhere in sight. Dumbledore sat on his throne at the head of the Teacher's table, benign and benevolently looking over the proceedings like some sort of dictator. Professor Snape sat at the very end, in a very animated discussion with Flitwick and his soulmate; a fair-haired goblin maiden who wore armour of silver with golden designs etched into it. Finally, after much ogling at the teachers respective soulmates (they finally realized that Sinistra and Vector were soulmates, after much discussion and debate), Dumbledore stood, and tapped his spoon against his goblet.

"Welcome, to soulmates, students and teachers. May your Valentine's Day be happy and filled with love; the greatest power of all. We…'

A knock at the now closed doors sounded, interrupting Dumbledore, who paused, and made a grand, sweeping gesture towards them.

"Enter!" he called. The doors swung open, and a figure entered hesitantly, a mere silhouette against the clear morning sky.

A short, ethereal woman stood there, her mahogany curls haloing her face and contrasting against her pale skin, a fiery waterfall in the early morning light. She was dressed in loose, comfortable clothes; the dark green jersey looking a few sizes too big with ' _Slytherin Quidditch Captain, 1992-1997'_ on the right side, embroidered in white. It hung off her frame, ending mid-thigh, and it only served to give the appearance of fragility and delicateness. Her slender legs were clad in dark grey leggings, and dragonhide boots covered her calves.

Professor Snape manoeuvred his way out of the long bench he was sitting on, apologising to Vector for accidentally kicking her on his way out, before turning to face the woman, eyes fixed on her. The woman's mouth quirked up into a fond smile, before she spoke.

"It's rude to stare, you know."

There were mutters and glares shot in Professor Snape's direction, but he merely smirked at her.

"I wasn't staring, I was admiring. There is a difference."

There was shocked silence, as the words processed in the minds of all present. Snape's voice had subtlety changed, a slight Yorkshire burr creeping onto his voice, and his eyes held a light that had been missing.

The woman smiled at him fully, and Snape… _smiled back_ ; a crooked quirk of his lips. She bounced towards him, oblivious of the shock, horror (how did someone that hot end up bound to _Snape?)_ and calculating looks sent her way, and looped her arms around his neck. Snape hugged her back, a little awkwardly, as she only came up to his shoulder.

"Guess what?" She said brightly, her smile infectious. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"You broke out of hospital?"

There were disbelieving looks, and some incredulous ones, and the woman blushed.

"Well, yes, but that's not what I wanted you to guess." Snape frowned.

"You murdered that paedophilic nurse who continually asked you if you needed help in the shower."

The woman slumped, pouting.

"Damn it, I knew I'd forgotten something. But, no."

"You went on a killing spree."

"Be reasonable."

"You…actually, that's not child friendly."

The woman, and a few of the teachers sniggered, but she shook her head.

"I don't want to know what you were thinking."

"Pity. You burned down the hospital."

The woman broke out of his arms, aghast.

"Severus! How dare you say such a thing?"

Snape placed a look of enlightenment on his face, which served to make the whole situation rather comical, if not a bit surreal.

"Ah! You blew it up this time!"

The woman punched him in the shoulder, laughing; a rich, clear sound, and the Hall felt lighter.

"'Very! No, that wasn't it."

Snape raised both eyebrows.

"Well, you can't have been discharged, because that _happens in three days."_ His tone was sharp at the end, and the woman winced.

"Yeah, about that…,' she grinned again, 'I officially, finally, have a clean bill of health. No more stays in hospital for me!"

For a moment, Snape stood there, motionless, expressionless, staring at her.

"You're joking." He said flatly, disbelief underlying his voice. The woman raised her own eyebrow.

"No, I'm Evan. Honestly Severus, get it right."

Snape's lips tilted into his crooked smile, before he bowed suddenly, procuring a flower seemingly out of thin air. Harry frowned as he tried to place it, nodding to Neville when he hissed " _dogwood"_. From the looks on the faces of some of the Purebloods, the flower had some meaning. He turned to Neville, who caught his gaze, and whispered.

"Victorian language of Flowers; dogwood means ' _love undiminished by adversity_ ".

"Happy Valentine's Day and 15th Anniversary, dearest Evan."

Evan blushed, and took the flower, giggling slightly.

"You are a charmer, aren't, you."

She tucked it behind her hair, the white petals glowing against her hair. Snape's smiled became even more crooked; something Harry didn't think was possible, before he brushed a curl out of her eyes tenderly, an indescribable expression on his face. "Evan" smiled up at him, before grabbing his hands, and leading him out of the Great Hall, ignoring Dumbledore's noise of protest.

"Come on Very, you can show me the private labs since Slughorn never let us anywhere near them when we were at school." She stated enthusiastically. An expression of fond amusement crossed Snape's face.

"That's because we already stole from the class supplies; he didn't want us stealing form his personal supply." Snape teased (a surreal experience for all those watching, bar Harry and a few Slytherin's).

Evan huffed, and walked faster, making Snape stumble slightly, before he jabbed her sides, making her squeal with laughter as she walked out the door, shoving Professor Snape lightly, eyes full of adoration and amusement.

There was silence before they left, before the hall broke out into excited chatter, and some mild grumblings, all speculating and gossiping about the revelations that just occurred, while Dumbledore sat upon his throne, looking calculating and most likely scheming something.

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And if Professor Snape didn't turn up to breakfast the next day, who were they to judge?

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 **There we go, some cute fluff. As per usual, leave a review!**

 **Cheers,**

 **Siofra**


	3. Fears of a Professor

**Welcome, Ladies, Gentlemen and whatever else you identify by, to Harry Potter's 3rd year.**

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* * *

Harry was excited.

The new Defence teacher, Professor Lupin, was the best he'd ever had. His lessons were always fun and exciting, and not even Ron Weasley and his whining couldn't keep his spirits down for long. Today, they were making their way to the staffroom, because Professor Lupin had a surprise for them, and for some reason, it wasn't in the classroom. Neville was jittery, and looked slightly pale. Harry spared Granger a glance, even as she started mumbling all the spells she knew under her breath, and Draco Malfoy was mercifully silent, as if he knew what was in the staffroom. Or was scared.

Professor Lupin opened the staffroom door, and held it open, gesturing for them to be quiet as they entered.

"There may be teachers in here, so be respectful. This is their space for relaxing, not a classroom."

Harry nodded, as did the rest of his class, and walked through the door, feeling a slight tingle of magic washing over him, and causing him to immediately relax. Neville squeaked when it happened, and glared at the doorframe.

"Calming spell on the doorway. That's just creepy."

"Probably didn't want any teachers killing Lockhart last year." Harry whispered to him, causing Neville to snort. Lily Moon from Slytherin joined them, and stuck close to Neville.

"Professor Snape was muttering about a Boggart yesterday, about how it had taken up residence in the staffroom. It's also the next creature in our books."

Harry put a comforting arm around Lily.

"The spell is _Riddikulus_ , and you have to imagine your fear turning into something funny."

"Thanks." Lily whispered, leaning into his hug.

Lily Moon was a quiet ravenette with auburn streaks, and was as small as Harry was, which was quite small compared to the rest of their classmates. She preferred Potions and Charms compared to any combat or violent course of magic, such as Transfiguration and Defence.

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Professor Lupin had stopped at a dark green couch, and stood frozen, an expression of disbelief and exasperated fondness covering his face. Creeping around to that side, Harry saw Professor Snape sprawled out on the couch, robes draped around him like bat wings, and his hair falling over his eyes. His face was smooth, and he looked peaceful; the lines around his face disappeared.

Professor Lupin looked torn between wanting to wake him up or ward the couch, but Harry noticed the slight hitch in Professor Snape's breathing, and knew that he was awake. The whispers from his classmates probably didn't help. Lupin noticed as well, and bit his lip.

"Severus?" he called hesitantly. Professor Snape groaned, and flung an arm over his eyes.

"Don't tell me; I slept through my 5th year Ravenpuff, class."

Lupin smiled slightly, but shook his head.

"No, it's my 3rd year Slythendor class. I told everyone, didn't I?"

Snape groaned again, and ran a pale hand through his hair, pulling it away from his face as he sat upright, exhaling heavily. His robes slid off his form, and Harry realized that he had, actually, taken off his robes, and was now clad in a white dress shirt, and black slacks. He ran a hand through his hair again, making it even more dishevelled.

"You did; I didn't mean to fall asleep." Snape looked up, and caught sight of the class that was now staring at him in shock, because no one had ever seen him so _human_.

"Shit." He muttered under his breath, garnering a reproving look from Lupin, and a few surprised looks from some students who were close enough to hear. He sighed, and stood up, grabbing his robes, and made to exit the room, but was stopped with Lupin's hand on his arm.

"You're welcome to stay and watch, you know. I'm sure your Slytherin's would like the reassurance that you are here." Lupin murmured. Harry saw Snape sigh once more, and heard him mutter " _Fine."_ That done, Professor Snape wandlessly moved all the furniture to the side of the classroom, stacking it neatly, before following said furniture, and leaning against it casually, ignoring the questioning glances from the students.

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Professor Lupin clapped his hands, and drew attention back to him.

"Right, now who can tell me what's in the wardrobe?" He pointed to the wardrobe, with rattled and shook ominously. Harry narrowed his eyes, and Granger's hand shot up, along with Lily's. Professor Lupin looked surprised, before pointing to Lily.

"Yes, Ms. Moon?"

"It's a Boggart sir. They change into your fears, and you have to make them funny in order to defeat it." Lupin beamed. Granger scowled.

"10 Points to Slytherin for a perfect answer, Ms Moon. Now, I want you all to line up, and step up to the Boggart when I call your name. Both Professor Snape and I are on hand if you have any difficulties, so don't be afraid to ask for help. Up first, Ms Patil."

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Harry watched as people faced their fears, one by one, standing at the back of the line.

Snakes, spiders, clowns, needles, doctors, dentists (Hermione had nodded knowingly, and smirked a little), heights, the dark. Dean was afraid of a world with no colour, Draco was afraid of a ball of purple light, which made Professor Snape go for his wand with a spell halfway to his lips, before Draco turned it into fireworks. Pansy Parkinson was afraid of being old, and Millicent Bulstrode was afraid of knives; Professor Snape eyed her with concern. Theodore Nott was next, and looked imploringly at Professor Snape, who nodded, and gestured for him to move to the side.

"Exempt, Theo. See me after." He called out, and Theo gave a huge sigh of relief, moving to the side of the classroom.

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Soon, it was Harry's turn, him being last, and he squared up with the Boggart, wand at the ready. The Boggart twisted and whirled as if it couldn't decide. Harry saw a flash of red eyes and pale skin, a bright green light, dark green scales, and the thin, bony hand of a Dementor, before it solidified into a horrifying sight; one he had hoped never to see again.

It was Vernon, drunk as hell, and an ugly puce colour. There was a bottle in one hand, and his expression was livid.

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" _YOU WORTHLESS FREAK! YOUR AUNT AND I TOOK YOU IN OUT OF THE GOODNESS OF OUR HEARTS, AND HOW DO YOU REPAY US!? FREAK!"_

Vernon bellowed, and Harry flinched, stepping back automatically, the ingrained apologies pouring form his mouth in a torrent of babbling, even as Vernon stepped forward, swinging his fists. Harry ducked, and scrambled back, arms held in front of his face protectively.

" _YOU'RE A FREAK, AND DON'T DESERVE ANYTHING THAT NORMAL PEOPLE DO! YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF A WASTE OF SPACE, JUST GO AND KILL YOURSELF!"_

Harry was panicking, and didn't notice when arms wrapped around him, pulling him away from Vernon and whispering reassurances and soothing words into his ear. He did, however, notice when Professor Snape stepped in front of him, and his Boggart appeared.

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Whatever anyone wasn't expecting, it wasn't for Vernon to become thinner, as his hair darkened and he grew muscles, black eyes glaring out of a heavily lined face.

" _Worthless scum. I should have drowned you when I had the chance. You're a disgrace to your bloodline, and a disgrace to me! You, with your magic tricks and your fucking cauldrons, your bloody books and your freakish looks! You're a disappointment, Severus, and too much like your whore of a mother. You're no son of mine!"_

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The voice was quieter, but no less scary, and Professor Snape flinched as the Boggart lifted what looked to be a broken bottle of an alcoholic drink. Snape seemed to catch himself before he ducked, and he waved his hand dismissively at his Boggart.

" _Riddikulus."_ He intoned lazily, forgoing his wand in favour of incantation.

The Boggart whirled around, and Harry was certain that it was going to go back into the wardrobe, when it suddenly manifested into a tall, thin, snakelike figure with red eyes, aiming a wand at him.

" _Traitor."_ It hissed menacingly, its voice high and cold. Both professors froze, and Professor Lupin swore heavily, only beaten by the impressive amount of profanity emitting form the Potions Professor's mouth. Someone screamed, and it seemed to jolt the professors into action.

Both pulled their wands, both took aim, and each fired a string of curses. Harry recognized some explosives in Professor Lupin's spell chain (he was excited by that; Flitwick had mentioned them in passing during Charms, and now he got to witness them!), but Professor Snape's were far darker; Harry could practically _taste_ the darkness emitting form his spell chain.

The Boggart exploded, and its remains vanished into black smoke. Professor Snape frowned, and blinked, the expression of raw fury and concentration vanishing from his face, and he took in his surroundings.

"Lupin…" he trailed off, and Professor Lupin groaned, hand covering his eyes in sudden realization.

"It was the fucking Boggart, wasn't it?"

Professor Snape sighed, and hummed in agreement, a tinge of red making its way onto his pale cheeks as his eyes darted around the class, and taking in their awestruck expressions, and the admiring ones thrown in there. Professor Lupin blushed, and dragged his hand down his face.

"We will never tell _anyone_ of what transpired here, agreed?" Lupin gritted out, voice thick with embarrassment.

"Are you kidding? Sinny and Vector would never let me live it down."

"Prof. McG would probably scold us both for overreacting."

Both Professor looked at each other, and nodded, shaking hands.

"Nothing happened." They chorused, and turned to the class.

"If _any_ of you _breathe_ a word of this to anyone, you will be in detention for the rest of your Hogwarts career. Understood?" Snape snarled. There were hurried affirmatives, and Lupin dismissed them, Theodore Nott staying after to chat with Professor Snape.

Harry joined Neville and Lily as they exited, the rest of their classmates whispering furiously amongst themselves. Harry could hear Granger telling anyone who would listen about how spell-chains were only able to be cast by wizards and witches of immense power and skill, and how only light wizards were known for that technique, so why could Professor Snape do it? Lily rolled her eyes.

"Does she ever shut up?"

Neville and Harry shook their heads, identical grimaces twisting their faces. Lily sighed, and linked arms with them both, dragging them towards the library, snagging her friends, Fay Dunbar and Blaise Zabini, on the way.

"On the bright side,' Lily continued, 'she certainly shut up when your Boggart turned up. Before, she was listing all the long names for fears. Arachnophobia, gerascophobia, herpetophobia, iatrophobia, Trypanophobia and I think she even muttered paterophobia in there somewhere, but she couldn't think up of one for yours, or Malfoy's, for that matter. I don't think even she knew what that curse was, and if she did, we should be worried."

"Still,' Blaise interrupted, 'who's 'Sinny'?"

"Professor Sinistra, obviously." Fay retorted. "I heard Professor Snape call her Rory once, but he calls her Sinny more often. I sit nearest to the teachers table."

"Guys,' Neville intervened, 'we have Potions in an hour, and I still haven't finished my essay, because Granger wouldn't shut up about study plans for our tests. Can we just go to the library?"

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They left quickly, Theodore joining them quickly after he'd finished talking to Professor Snape, and they headed towards the library, aiming to get there before Granger did. Still, Harry couldn't stop thinking about his Potions Professor's Boggart; someone said that it was his father, and they did look too similar to be a coincidence (Vernon and Dudley were a good example; both pink, fat and loud). He also thought back to the time when Professor Snape had seen the scars on his arms, _because he knew what he was looking for_. Harry frowned, trying to figure out the mystery of his Professor, and listed the things he knew so far.

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1\. He knew Professor Lupin well, so was at school around the same time as him, possibly in the same year, which meant the same year as his father.

2\. He knew how to recognise injuries that can't have been mere accidents

3\. He had a girlfriend/wife/fiancée/partner called Evan, who spent a lot of time in hospital

4\. He spoke to Thestrals as if they could understand, and he could understand them

5\. He was a proficient dueller (Lockhart's club was a testament to that)

6\. His Boggart first turned into his father; unhappy childhood

7\. His Boggart had turned into Voldemort; he'd seen, fought for or against, and spoken to the Dark Lord

8\. He tended to react to threats quickly rather than analyse them.

9\. He had a sailor's mouth

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Harry wasn't too happy with his meagre list, but vowed to wait longer. Something would come up, and maybe, just maybe, he'd know his Potions Professor a bit better.

.

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 **There we go, munchkins. Drop a review, PLEASE! I'M BEGGING!**

 **Cheers,**

 **Siofra**


	4. Not a Prince, But a Snape

**Hey guys! So, I intended to do a quick oneshot, and then this monster came out instead, so…to be fair, there is a lot going on in the fourth book, and I wanted to create lots of opportunities for things to be seen.**

 **Please Read and Review!**

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 **Enjoy**

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* * *

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To say Harry was stressed didn't even begin to cover it.

Minutes ago, his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire, binding him into a guaranteed death race with older students for the glory of his school. This was the reason why, of course he was sitting by the fire, catatonic, barely aware of the respective Heads of the different schools and various judges arguing over his fate, and most definitely not aware of the concerned glances Hogwarts' resident big brother (even to the Slytherin's; you can't hate someone _that_ nice) Cedric Diggory threw his way from time to time.

Instead, he stared into the flames, his thoughts starting to stray to ponder if _he_ was going to end up like the logs sitting in the grate; burning, burning, _burning_ , until he snapped and popped and disintegrated into ash, to be swept away and disposed of in a timely manner. He was so preoccupied with his thoughts, that he missed the entrance of his Head of House and his Potion's Professor. It was a pity that he wasn't paying attention, because he would have seen the murderous glares that both teachers shot at Barty Crouch for suggesting that Harry had asked an older student.

.

"Mr. Potter."

At the sound of his teacher's distinctive baritone, Harry jerked his head up, turning it around so fast that it cracked. Panicked green clashed with suspicious black, which morphed into something intangible.

"Did you put your name in the Goblet?"

Harry shook his head emphatically, eyes wide.

"Did you ask an older student to put your name in?"

Harry shook his head again, his eyes starting to sting, to his great embarrassment. Fleur's comment about him being a ' _leetle boy'_ stung his teenage boy pride, but, in truth, that's what he was to them; a little boy far out of his league. Snape looked taken aback momentarily at the sight of the tears, and discretely handed him a handkerchief, before turning to the assembled adults.

"He speaks the truth. Mr Potter did not put his name in the Goblet of Fire."

"An 'ow do you know this? 'E could be _le mentuer._ "

"Madame Maxine,' Harry watched in astonishment as his professor gave a deep, flourishing bow, 'I do not encourage my students to lie to me. They know the consequences of their actions if they do. Perhaps, if you do not believe Mr Potter, other…arrangements can be made to find out the truth?"

Madame Maxine flushed slightly, but inclined her head gracefully.

"Perhaps, Maître Prince, I shall take your words into account."

"Snape, actually, Madame. Maître Prince is my cousin, but it is a common mistake."

.

"Stop trying to protect him! Mr Potter is guilty of entering this competition, and must participate!"

Simultaneously, Snape, McGonagall and Maxine levelled near identical glares at Karkaroff, who discretely loosened his collar.

"I say, won't this be jolly! A surprise late entry, but selected by the Goblet nonetheless! Two champions for Hogwarts, and a little unfair, but think of the publicity! The Boy-Who-Lived; Champion of Hogwarts! The Prophet will have a field day with this!"

Those glares transferred to Ludo Bagman, who was two sandwiches short of a picnic to notice at any rate, and Harry stiffened.

"Great,' he muttered, 'more publicity. Just what I always wanted."

Behind him, Cedric snorted.

"What am I, chopped liver?"

.

Unfortunately, Harry had missed a little of what the judges had said, and only caught "…a surprise, to test your bravery. Goodnight!"

Harry watched, eyes wide, as the judges, Dumbledore and Karkaroff left, leaving Snape, McGonagall and Maxine with the champions. Maxine turned to Fleur, and said something in rapid French, to which the blond witch replied, irritated. Maxine snapped at her, and then left. Fleur huffed, and sat down on a chair, folding her arms angrily. Krum stared into the fire, face blank, and Cedric plonked himself into an overstuffed armchair.

"Well,' the Hufflepuff heartthrob declared, 'things really are up shit creek without a paddle."

"Language, Mr Diggory, although I cannot fault you for putting this situation so aptly into words." McGonagall sighed. "Mr Potter, I wish to see you tomorrow morning after breakfast, to discuss the remainder of your school year with you."

"You're expelling me!?" Harry blurted out, the old fear of returning to the Dursley's early rearing its ugly head with vengeance, and his breath started coming in quicker gasps. McGonagall looked taken aback, and Snape gave him a look out of the corner of his eye that bordered on curious. Krum stood up straighter and turned to look at him, while Fleur uncrossed her arms and stared at him, and Cedric stood up from his chair, a protest on his lips. Harry, however, had his gaze fixed on Professor McGonagall, eyes searching her face frantically for any tell-tale signs of disappointment, anger or lies.

"I am not expelling you, Mr Potter, never fear of that."

' _…never fear…never fear…never fear…'_ Harry started to hyperventilate as McGonagall's words took a sinister turn, before transforming into his uncle's voice.

' _Never fear, freak, you'll get what's coming to you soon enough. Never fear, no one will hear you scream. Never fear, no one will save you now.'_

His vision tunnelled, and black spots began to dance across his vision as people called his name, but all he could hear were the jeers and taunts thrown at him by Dudley and his gang, Vernon yelling at him, and Petunia shrieking for him to do his chores, weed the garden, make breakfast, be less freakish, shut up, do as your told, don't ask questions. There were arms encircling him, and Harry fought them, trying to escape his cousin's friends before Dudley could come along and beat them. Then, one voice, who was most _definitely not_ his uncle rose over the clamour.

"Harrison James Potter, you will cease your antics at _once_!"

The voice was a far cry from his uncle's furious bellows, yet held an unyielding tone of command that something deep inside him responded to. Harry ceased struggling, and the arms around him loosened, but still held him against a muscular chest. Harry stared up into illimitable black eyes, and felt himself flush with shame with his actions, before something occurred to him.

"Is my name actually Harrison?"

There was a vibrating feeling against his back, and Harry looked down, noticing the thin yellow band on the sleeve of a grey jumper. _Cedric._ _Of course._ It took him a moment to realize that Cedric was trying not to laugh at him. Professor Snape raised an eyebrow.

"It is on your birth certificate, but I would advise you not to spread it around. Names have power." His voiced softened slightly at the end, and there was a mild hunted look about him. Harry nodded, and was about to ask a question, when he felt a strong hand grip his shoulder.

"I vill help, Potter. Dis…is not right."

"Oui." Fleur stood up. "If 'e will 'ave panic attacks about this, then 'e is telling _la vérité."_

"Besides,' Cedric spoke up, pulling Harry into a tight hug, 'this bloody tournament is about Inter-School Unity, right? My classes have been cancelled and so have Harry's; why don't we work together?"

McGonagall gave them all a small smile.

"What wondrous young people we have in front of us, Severus. Very well. Mr Potter, I will still give you assignments so that you are not too far behind, and I'm sure Severus will do the same. Don't forget our meeting tomorrow, Mr Potter. Goodnight."

"Good night, Professor McGonagall." Harry murmured, giving her a shy smile. McGonagall returned it, and left, leaving only Snape with the champions. He fixed them all with a _look_ , which made them wilt a little, before rolling his eyes.

"Don't stay up too late. The press comes tomorrow morning." Cedric groaned, and Viktor sighed, dropping to the floor beside Cedric with his head in his hands, muttering dark things in Bulgarian under his breath. Fleur sniffed, before descending to the floor with such grace that it made sitting down look like an art form. Snape spared them one more look, before he seemed to come to a decision.

"The rules forbid the participants from asking teachers for help. However, it does not state that any other outside influence is forbidden." He looked at Harry pointedly, and Harry grinned. Snape left, and Cedric pushed Harry off his lap.

"You need to eat more; you're far too light for fourteen." He worried. Harry rolled his eyes, but his grin was fixed firmly in place. Cedric frowned.

"Why are you grinning?"

Harry bounced in place.

"Do you think that Professor Lupin would help us with this? I know that he hasn't taught you two,' he gestured to Fleur and Viktor, 'but Si…someone told me that he was world recognized in DADA and History of Magic."

"I 'ave a sester who is a Maître of Runes and Arithmancy."

"My _bratovched_ is good vith Potions and Charms."

"Madam Hooch has a niece with qualifications in Transfiguration."

.

Harry looked at his fellow champions, and saw in their eyes a newfound friendship; a bond that was forged in planning against the Ministry and the stupid tournament. Cedric grinned back at him, before turning to Fleur.

"Now, the important question. I know Krum can fly, obviously, and Harry and I are both Seekers, but…do you play Quidditch? If so, would you be interested in a pick-up game sometime?"

.

Harry laughed.

.

.

* * *

.

"Dragons."

"I'm going to die."

"Da."

"Oui."

The four champions sat in a rough half-circle in front of the fire that was cackling away at their misfortune, in an abandoned classroom on the third floor (not the one Fluffy was in, thank God). Fleur, upon seeing the classroom during one of her many explorations around the castle, had decided that it was a good meeting place, and had transfigured a chair into a couch, making it permanent by carving Runes on the underside. Cedric had pilfered an armchair from the Hufflepuff Common room, Viktor had melded a few desks together with some strange Bulgarian spell and added cushions, while Harry had asked Dobby for a spare chair. Dobby had not only returned with an overstuffed green armchair that, he declared, was from the Slytherin Common room years ago, but with a large table, some house banners (Slytherin and Ravenclaw were changed to Durmstrang and Beauxbatons) and a few other decorations.

Viktor had, upon being told what the 1st Task was by Karkaroff, had signalled the other champions and told them. Needless to say, they weren't taking it well.

"I'm fourteen." Harry stared at the fire. "How the hell am I supposed to defeat a dragon?"

" _Mon dieu_ , this is insane."

"Are they mad?"

"Dis is not gut."

The door opened, and Professor Snape walked in, pausing at the sight of the four catatonic champions.

"Hi, Professor Snape." Cedric and Harry chorused, voices lacking any sort of cheer.

"I see you found out, then." He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "And a reminder that curfew is in five minutes, Mr's Potter and Diggory. Don't be caught by Filch."

"Remus says not to fly, because they see it as a sign of attack,' Harry moaned, 'but flying is the only thing I'm good at. I can't throw a potion at it, I can't attack it and I can't change it. I don't have the power to slow it down with elements, either."

"I'm conjuring something to distract whatever dragon I get."

"I can use Veela charm to zing it to sleep."

Viktor was silent, and Harry turned to look at him.

"Viktor?"

"I vas planning to blind it." They all stared at him, aghast. "But it may cause damage to eggs. Running through options now." Viktor suddenly sat up straight, staring at Harry.

"You said somethink about elements?" Harry nodded.

"Yeeessss?"

"I can slow it down with ice." Viktor leaned back, face smug. Harry sighed.

"Now I don't have a plan. This sucks."

"Save your teenage drama for two months' time." Professor Snape chided, causing all champions to stare at him in confusion. He stared back, innocent as he could get, before looking up at the ceiling.

"Oops, I've said too much." Harry narrowed his eyes, but Professor Snape turned to go, ignoring the curious gazes with expert ease.

"I've always wondered what it would be like to talk to a dragon." Snape mused, whimsical. "They must have some excellent stories from living so long. Who knows, they may be quite intelligent." With that cryptic comment, he left, throwing a "Don't be caught out after curfew!" over his shoulder.

They all stared at the space he had been, puzzled.

"They zay 'e iz mad. Brilliant, but mad." Fleur ventured after the silence had grown too thick.

"He is well known in some circles for being eccentric." Cedric conceded. Harry frowned, turning Professor Snape's comments over in his head, before is clicked.

' _…talk to a dragon…quite intelligent…_ ' He glanced at his fellow champions.

"I do believe I have a plan." he smirked at their baffled looks.

"Vat is it?" Viktor asked. Harry grinned.

"I think I'll see if I can hold a conversation with a dragon."

.

.

* * *

.

"A Ball?!" In the Champions Common room (as it was called by the four of them) Harry slumped into a chair next to the Bulgarian Seeker, who also had a look of impending doom etched upon his face. Fleur lay sprawled out on the floor in a most unladylike fashion, arms over her eyes as if to shield herself from this great calamity.

"I vant the dragons back." Viktor muttered.

"Seconded." Harry called.

"Motion carried." Fleur threw from her position on the floor.

Cedric walked in, a goofy smile on his face.

"I have a date!" the other three groaned, and threw whatever was closest at the cheerful Hufflepuff. Cedric squawked as he was hit with a pillow, a cushion, and a high-heeled shoe covered in glitter that narrowly missed a valuable part of his anatomy. He wasn't entirely sure who had thrown what, but was willing to bet that the shoe was Fleur's.

"I say, why all so glum?"

"Boy-Who-Lived."

"International Seeker."

"Part-Veela."

"And?"

"Fans, my dear Hufflepuff,' Harry declared, 'are incredibly vexing. So are teenage boys who don't think with their heads. Also, I can't dance. Although,' he turned to Fleur, 'if the lovely champion from Beauxbatons would save a dance for me, it would be much appreciated."

Fleur giggled, and waved her hand.

"I would be 'onoured, Monsieur Potter. And if Monsieur Krum would be 'as so kind to save me a dance?"

"Da, I vill. But not one for Potter."

Harry tossed his other cushion at Viktor. It missed, and hit the imposing form of Professor Snape. Harry froze, and eyed his teacher warily. Professor Snape merely tossed it to Fleur, who mumbled her thanks as she put it behind her head.

"Mr Potter, Professor McGonagall would like to speak with you." Harry groaned, and stood up.

"Any chance that I could face the dragons again, sir?" Snape smirked.

"Not on your life. I had to see Madam Pomfrey after Professor McGonagall crushed my hand during your first task. She's not happy with you."

Harry winced, and followed his professor towards McGonagall's office.

"Sir? Do the teachers get to ask someone to the ball as well?" Professor Snape stopped, and turned to look at him.

"Why?" His tone was guarded, and Harry shrugged.

"I mean, I heard that one of the 7th years was going to ask McGonagall if her boyfriend could come, but he's already graduated, so she'd need permission, and I wondered if the teachers had a plus one, or whether they had to go with each other."

Professor Snape snorted, and they continued up the stairs.

"Out of the five males employed at this school, excluding Binns, Flitwick, though excellent when it comes to choral arrangements, cannot dance without tripping up. Hagrid…goes without saying, Babbling abhors social functions more than I do, and the Headmaster plays for the other team. Both Babbling and I used to get hounded when the Yule Ball was still running, but it fell out of favour three years before you came to school, after Charlie Weasley and Nymphadora Tonks spiked the punch with six bottles of Firewhiskey. Of the female staff, Sinistra hates crowds, Vector…is a reasonable dancer, as is McGonagall, Trelawney couldn't predict when she'd eat breakfast, let alone the dance steps, and Sprout prefers her plants."

Harry sniggered at the description of Trelawney, but frowned.

"You didn't actually answer my question."

"No, I didn't. This is your stop, Mr Potter." He turned to leave, but paused.

"You are allowed to bring someone younger than you to the ball. If you are hunting for a date, try find someone who you won't mind being stuck with for the evening." He whirled off in a flutter of black, and disappeared down the hallways. Harry frowned, but knocked on the door, and entered the office when she called him in.

"Mr Potter, about the ball…"

"I can't dance!" Harry blurted out, hoping that his Head of House would be able to help him. McGonagall looked taken aback, before a small smile played at the edges of her mouth.

"And I daresay other students will be in the same position. Nevertheless, I wish to talk to you about the opening of the Ball. As champion, unofficial or not, you must open the Ball, and…"

She trailed off as Harry paled, and sank further into his seat.

"I'm doomed."

"Nonsense. Do you have a date?"

"No." Came the answering moan, of a teenage boy resigning himself to the fact that he must ask a girl to the ball. "I don't know who to ask."

"May I suggest looking at your group of friends, before you decide to branch out? If you make it clear that you will be going as friends, then hopefully, there will be no…misunderstandings later."

Harry thought for a moment, before his face broke out into a grin.

"Don't embarrass Gryffindor, right?" McGonagall frowned, but nodded.

"It would be preferable if you didn't. But not embarrassing Hogwarts comes first."

Harry grinned, and stood.

"Thank you for the advice. I need to find my date before someone else gets to her. Bye!"

He shot out of the office, and down the hall towards the library, hoping that he'd find her, before it was too late.

.

.

.

* * *

.

Lily shifted nervously beside him, resplendent in a flowing forest green gown that accented her own pine-green eyes, pale skin and black hair, and was accented by the same colour tie that Harry had added to his dress robes (read, suit, because the dress robes looked exactly like it sounded; _dress_ robes). Harry's whole idea of going to the ball with her as friends had solved Lily's own dilemma; Draco Malfoy and Adrian Pucey had both asked her. The funniest thing about it was that once the other champions saw his date, they were wonderfully confused.

"Harry, 'Cedric had begun, 'aren't you an only child?"

"I didn't know you 'ad a seester." Was Fleur's comment.

"Is dis your twin?" Viktor had asked.

Indeed, both looked so similar to each other that many first assumed that they were related. Unfortunately, they weren't; Harry had checked, as had Lily, to see if he could come live with them during the summers on a technicality of blood relation (he had stayed at her family mansion over the holidays anyway, without telling Dumbledore). Lily had even braved bringing up the taboo topic of squibs to see if there was a relation through there, but like most Pureblood families, the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Moon didn't keep track of their squibs.

Following McGonagall's advice on going as friends, and Professor Snape's on finding someone he wouldn't mind being stuck with, he'd asked his closest girl-friend, Lily (and wasn't it odd that his closest friend shared his mother's name?) to the ball. It had to be hush, because even though most of Slytherin were okay with Harry after he apologized to most of them for insulting them due to ignorance (and Lord, his holidays had been filled with Pureblood etiquette since), there were still the occasional few (Malfoy, Pucey, Warrington, Parkinson) who abhorred Harry's presence. He had considered asking Fay, but she had walked into a study session all giggly, and crowed that she'd gotten a date with Theo Nott.

Which meant that there was another Gryffindor/Slytherin pairing at the ball, so Harry and Lily wouldn't be the centre of attention too much.

"You nervous?" Lily whispered, clenching Harry's arm a little tighter.

"Just remember the steps, and let me lead. If in doubt, sneak glances at the other Champions." He whispered back, earning himself a giggle and a smile.

The other champions, especially Viktor and Fleur, had been very patient in teaching both Harry and Lily to waltz (Lily had been taking lessons from her parents for years, but it was different with Harry, who was near enough to her height that it caused a difference), and hadn't complained about the sore toes (especially Fleur), and had made them practise and practise until Harry was waltzing in his sleep, and subconsciously doing the steps on the way to his classes (much to the amusement of his friends, especially once he started humming).

He snapped back to attention when he heard Dumbledore announce them.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please give our Champions a round of applause."

Lily's arm tightened around his forearm until it was painful, but her face stayed impassive. Harry straightened his shoulders as Viktor exited with Morag McDougal, Cedric with Cho Chang, Fleur with Aeron Prince (Ravenclaw 6th year), before he himself stepped out from the antechamber, and into the ballroom. He had to struggle to keep his jaw from dropping, as he entered an enchanted forest, complete with real fairies and a strange, luminescent breed of butterfly that fluttered around. He almost missed the start of the music, if Lily hadn't dug her nails into his shoulder to grab his attention. The music was, thankfully, the same music they had rehearsed to, so when they started to dance, they all started at the same time, and it couldn't have looked better.

Lily spun in his arms, feather-light, and her hair flared out behind her like a knight's pennant. She had a bright grin on her face, and Harry didn't need a mirror to know that his own face held one just as light.

He catches a glimpse of Dumbledore waltzing with McGonagall (dressed in a formal version of her clan tartan), and Professor Babbling dancing with the blue-haired Fae woman he'd brought to school on Valentine's day once. Professor Vector was dancing with a teacher from Durmstrang, and laughing at something he said, while Professor Sinistra chattered with a Beauxbatons teacher in a wheelchair who had scars down her face.

Harry, spotting Fleur and Cedric leaving the floor, was quick to follow, Viktor and Morag coming up behind him as they left.

"Well done Harry, and Lily." Cedric congratulated them, his arm around Cho's waist. "Superb dancing."

"All thanks to you." Harry replied. "If you all hadn't helped me, I'd be in the dance floor hexed to oblivion for standing on Lily's toes."

Lily smacked him on the arm, mock-affronted. Harry turned to stick his tongue out, when a whirl of black caught his eye, and he turned to look. He stared.

Professor Snape wasn't wearing black robes.

He did, however, make the midnight blue robes he was wearing look sophisticated and elegant, unlike the many other males in the room who looked mildly uncomfortable. His hair was tied back and away from his face, although a few strands drifted over his eyes in an attempt to rebel. Harry however, immediately felt self-conscious and jealous as soon as he saw him _dance_. Professor Snape didn't dance as much as he glided across the floor, dragonhide boots sliding across the polished floor with nary a sound, while his posture was impeccable, and he carried himself with a grace that was never seen within the Potions classroom.

His dance partner, the woman Harry remembered her name being Evan, was dressed in a black and midnight corseted gown, her pale shoulders bared to the slight chill in the room. Her fiery curls were twisted into an elaborate bun, but, much like her partners, there were a few shorter strands that curled across her cheekbones. They moved in tandem, perfectly in sync, their eyes fixed on each other as if there wasn't anyone else in the room, while he expertly navigated the crowds, and she spun and twirled and floated according to his whims.

And Harry wasn't the only one to notice the two.

Slowly, couples drifted off the dance floor, candlelight flickering compared to the beacon at sea, until the dance floor only contained the two.

Looking closer as 'Evan' spun around, Harry noticed a black, cursive script across her shoulder blades.

' _After all this has passed, I still will remain._

 _After I've cried my last, there'll be Beauty from Pain._

 _Though it won't be today, someday I'll hope again._

 _And there'll be Beauty from Pain.'_

 _._

 _._

Beside him, Lily gasped.

"That's Evangeline Rosier!"

"Who?" Harry stared at her blankly. Lily shot him a sympathetic look.

"I forgot you didn't grow up with me. There was this huge scandal back when my parents were at school. Apparently, Lady Rosier was impersonating a boy so that she could come to Hogwarts, and…well, they say that's how she and Professor Snape got together. They shared a dorm, and he noticed a few things that didn't add up, but covered for her. But, come Graduation, she was ousted by Avery and Mulciber." She hesitated for the barest fraction. "Professor Snape is the reason why Avery walks with a permanent limp, and Mulciber lost an eye. They tried to rape her, and her magic backfired, due to the pureblood virginity clauses. She was never the same afterwards, but when Snape found out…he was almost expelled."

"Sheesh, 'Cedric whispered, 'I remember my parents talking about it as well. Professor Snape called on an old pureblood tradition that no one expected him to know, because he was a half-blood. It basically stated that he had a right to challenge Avery and Mulciber to a duel over Lady Rosier. Her father didn't protest, and Snape levelled them both within five minutes."

"It was most romantic,' Fleur said dreamily, ''ow 'e fought for her 'onor. There were tales around Beauxbatons about it for years. Many of the older girls wanted it to 'appen to them."

"Yes, well, Evan and Sev are quite close. But, what your parents didn't know was that Evan was always quite sick, and the attack damn near killed her. If it weren't for Severus pulling a three-day brewing spree, she'd be dead."

The group spun around, coming face to face with a tall, blonde man with a crystal-blue gaze. Viktor was the first to react, snapping into a deep bow that echoed the one Harry had seen other foreign students direct towards Professors McGonagall, Snape, Babbling, Vector, Flitwick and even Sinistra.

"Maĭstor Liert."

"Mr Krum." The man nodded in return, reaching out a slender hand and using a long finger to lift Viktor's chin. "None of that, now. Not for Nadia's little cousin."

Viktor, to everyone's amazement, flushed, and avoided the man's gaze. The man turned to the others.

"My apologies for my extremely bad manners. My name is Karl Liert; Master in Potion's, Herbology and Transfiguration."

Fleur dipped into a curtsey that was echoed by Lily and Cho. Harry and Cedric bowed in imitation of Viktor, and the man chuckled softly, even as the music faded.

"None of that. If you turn around, you will see the rare occurrence of your Professor blushing as he realizes that once again, he has accidentally become the centre of attention."

Indeed, Professor Snape had twin spots of pale pink upon his normally pale complexion, and he was studiously looking anywhere _but_ the applauding crowd. Evan, similarly, seemed to find her shoes very interesting, and her blush was more pronounced then Professor Snape's. But, they did bow to the audience, before moving off the floor once the applause had finished, making their way over to where the champions and their mysterious companion was standing as the music started again.

"Karl!" Evan exclaimed, pulling the man into a hug. "I thought you were at the Master's conference in Dublin."

"I was in the neighbourhood, and decided to drop by. I borrowed your Floo, Sev. Hope you don't mind."

Professor Snape rolled his eyes, submitting to a manly hug between the two.

"No, of course not. What brings you here? I mean,' he gestured around, 'you hate most social functions of this…ilk."

Karl looked embarrassed, and bit his lip. Snape narrowed his eyes, before his lips twitched into a small grin.

"You were being harassed, weren't you?" Karl nodded, face pale.

"There were so many…" he breathed. " _All clamouring for a kiss with their bloodied lips and pointed teeth. Never again shall I return there, for fear of not returning_."

"Ever the poet, Karl." Evan smiled. "Would you care to dance, since you're here?"

Karl bowed.

"I would be delighted, Lady Rosier. Sev, I believe Rory is begging for a dance."

"Then I shall attend." Severus gallantly handed Evan off to Karl, with a whisper of " _Behave_ ", before sweeping off to twirl Professor Sinistra to the floor, with a small nod in the directions of the four champions and their dates. It was Cedric who finally broke the silence.

.

"Do you think he'd offer dance lessons?"

.

.

* * *

.

"This is by far the stupidest thing I've ever done." Harry muttered to the other champions. "Eternal glory? By what, diving into the freezing cold lake in the middle of _February_? We'll freeze before we even get to the…whatever will be down there at any rate, because the clue was so bloody _cryptic_."

"Amen." Cedric muttered, eyeing the Gillyweed in Harry's hand with something akin to distaste. "Is that really your best option?"

"I can't maintain the Bubble-Head charm long enough. It pops around the twenty minute mark. Neville swears by this stuff, and it apparently lasts for an hour."

"Bonus." Cedric leaned closer, eyeing up Viktor's impressive abdomen.

"I can see why all the girls flock to him, I feel quite intimidated."

Harry sniggered, and gestured to Fleur, who was shivering in a very thin, silver swimming costume.

"I feel sorry for Fleur. Veela don't do well in water, being fire-based and all."

"Keep an eye out for her." Viktor leaned into their conversation. "Judges…too excited."

"Panem et Circuses." Harry muttered, garnering two confused looks from the older champions, before he elaborated. "Bread and Circuses. So, essentially, food and entertainment."

"The danger is the food…"

"And ve are da entertainment."

"Charming." Fleur chattered, clenching her teeth in an attempt to stop them from clacking together hard enough to break. "After this, we go to Cannes. See films, swim in _warm_ water."

"I'm keen." Harry rubbed his arms, eyeing the judges with no small amount of hate. "I wish they'd bloody hurry up. I'm freezing."

"Amen." Cedric repeated, slinging an arm around the French Champion in order to lend her some of his rapidly vanishing body heat.

"Champions, on your marks!" Bagman cried, and they each made their way to the end of the dock.

"Set…" Harry stuffed the Gillyweed in his mouth and chewed ferociously, grimacing at the bitter taste.

There was a bang as Harry swallowed, and the champions dove into the lake, each heading off in their different directions.

.

* * *

.

Fleur was raging.

Really, it was a sight to behold, as she screamed in French at the judges, her skin steaming, as she held a mini-Fleur close to her, who was sobbing into her big sister's stomach. Viktor, standing protectively over a tall, whippet thin blonde who was shivering so hard he had to sit down, stared in amazement, and a little bit of admiration. Harry, with his arms around Lily Moon in order to warm her up (and prevent her from catching hypothermia) and Cedric, cuddling with Cho, stood a healthy distance away, mindful of the French woman's wrath.

"Impressive. Most impressive." Lily chattered. "Do you think she could teach me how she does that? It could be very useful in the common room."

"Malfoy would wet himself." Harry snorted, and Lily beamed at him.

"That's the point. Besides,' she looked towards the stands,' everyone knows that Malfoy has been dethroned by Blaise and Theo, no matter how unofficially. Theo for the front, and Blaise for the shadows."

"Sounds...complicated." Cedric finally said, Harry nodding in agreement.

"I'm glad I'm a Gryffindor. Slytherin sounds complicated."

"You have no idea." Lily murmured, before she pushed away from Harry suddenly. "Skeeter!" she hissed, and Harry immediately handed her his spare blanket to put over her own.

"Mr Potter! Mr Diggory! A quick word?"

"Fuck off, bitch?" Lily suggested to Harry, voice low, and Harry sniggered into his hand, before pulling a shirt over his still-damp torso. A wind had picked up, and it was bitterly cold.

"I'm afraid, Ms Skeeter, that I will have to decline,' Harry began,' as neither of my guardians or even my Head of House are available, and I am a minor."

"Well done." Cedric muttered, before turning to Skeeter. "I have one comment, and one comment only." Skeeter leaned forward, her Quick-Quotes Quill poised over her parchment.

"If myself or any other Champions and their _hostages_ get ill from this hare-brained scheme to swim in the lake _in winter_ , _in Scotland,_ then the committee for this event will be hearing from the Heads of many families, including the Most Ancient and Most Noble Houses of Potter and Moon, the Noble House of Diggory, and their French and Bulgarian equivalents. This event was ill-thought out, dangerous, and moronic, no matter the entertainment value. I expect this quote verbatim, Ms Skeeter. If not, then the _Daily Prophet_ will lose its primary stakeholders and financial backers."

.

Skeeter stared, before scuttling off to go bother someone else. Harry knew it was cruel of him, but he secretly hoped that she'd go for Madame Maxine, if only so he could see the spectacular glare that the French Headmistress was able to level at anyone.

"Sorry for dragging you into this, guys,' Cedric ran a hand through his hair,' I wanted to scare her badly enough to leave us alone."

"It doesn't matter. I'll just need to notify father about the current situation, before Skeeter asks him about it. He doesn't like surprises."

Harry, remembering the tall, dark and lean man who thoroughly intimidated him, couldn't help but imagine Lord Moon hexing Skeeter (he operated on a 'hex first, apologize later' basis) as soon as she showed up. Judging by the look in Cedric's face, he had the same image as well. Viktor came up beside them, the shivering blonde leaning into him in order to absorb body-heat. They nodded at them, and Lily offered a wave.

"Who's your friend?"

"Dis is my… _drugar_ , Jakome Zuhaitz."

"Bună." The youth offered them a shaky smile, and Harry caught a glimpse of elongated canines. He narrowed his eyes, and darted glances to his hands, skin, neck and then his eyes. His crimson eyes. The vampire shrugged.

"Da, I am undead. Do I care? _Nu_ , I do not. It is a fact of life, if you'll pardon the pun."

Harry bit his lip, and studied the ground momentarily, before looking up as a horrid though occurred to him.

"Can you survive being underwater, or even being in the water? And what about…sunlight?" he whispered the last word, and Jakome shivered…no, Harry realised, it was a tremor; a sudden tensing of the muscles.

"No. That is why Viktor won, da? I needed to be out of there, but…I'll need to feed early the longer I spend in the sun."

"Do you require blood now, Master Zuhaitz?" Lily enquired, face carefully blank. "I would be willing to donate, if it is critical."

Harry hesitated only a second before nodding his agreement. "As would I."

Jakome smiled at them, and shook his head.

" _Nu_ , but I thank you for the offer. Perhaps later, once I have sufficiently curbed my need, and only need a 'top-up'. I do not wish to drain anyone completely."

"Never let it be said that the British didn't take care of their guests." Cedric quipped, and there was a smattering of laughter. Looking around, Harry spotted Professor Snape arguing in hushed tones with Master Liert, hands making tight and tense gestures, Professor Snape occasionally touching his left wrist, and making frequent glances towards Karkaroff and Moody. He frowned, before turning back towards the group, wrapping a warm arm around Lily as they moved towards the Quidditch locker rooms for a shower.

No use upsetting Filch, after all.

.

.

* * *

.

Harry was numb, tears dried long ago upon his cheeks, and eyes staring at everything and nothing. He was seated on his hospital bed, voices rising and falling around him, and demands to know exactly what happened washing over him like waves over rocks. None of it mattered, though, because Cedric was lying on the bed next to him, struggling to breathe through his punctured lung and the gaping wound in his side.

The final task had been a disaster, with Viktor being Imperiused, before casting a Crucio on Fleur. It had left just Harry and Cedric running after the cup, and both had reached it at the same time, silently agreeing on a Hogwarts Victory, before they were whisked away to a graveyard straight from Hell. An Avada had been thrown, and Harry and tackled Cedric to the ground to that the Hufflepuff would live. From there, it had been a tough duel against the man in Sirius' memories; Wormtail, or Peter Pettigrew. Harry had gotten off lightly; something about a ritual for Wormtail's master, but Cedric had taken the brunt of the attack, stating that since he was the oldest, he'd take care of Harry.

He'd come out of the duel with a fractured tibia, a Bombarda to the side, and an over-powered Knockback Jinx that had slammed him against one of the many tombstones that had littered the graveyard. In the meantime, Harry had sent his Patronus to Sirius, who in turn had alerted McGonagall, who had sent for the Aurors. McGonagall had been livid that Harry had been put in danger, but that was nothing compared to Sirius, who had donned his Lord Black persona, and teamed up with Lord Moon, Lord Diggory, Lord Krum and the French Ambassador, and were currently tearing a new one over the ministry for endangering their heirs.

Right now, Madame Pomfrey was in conference with Amos Diggory, and giving him the bad news. Cedric wasn't expected to live through the night. She had done all she could, but all she could do now was make him comfortable. And Harry knew that it was his fault.

If he'd been quicker in summoning his Patronus, or had shielded Cedric while he was casting, or had even thrown his own spells at Wormtail, then Cedric may have been able to see another sunrise at Hogwarts. Instead, he was unconscious, and slowly dying as the blood trickled into this lungs and drowned him from the inside. Cedric, who was everyone's big brother, and who had held him at the very start while he had a panic attack and believed him when he said that he hadn't entered himself in the tournament. The vision of Hogwarts without everyone's favourite Hufflepuff was something intangible and unfathomable.

.

Harry didn't see the spell that sent him to sleep, nor did he feel Sirius arrange him on the bed so that he was comfortable, or the blankets that were tucked around him. He may have blushed, but it was the first time since his parents were alive that he'd been tucked in.

.

It was near dawn when Harry re-woke, and he immediately noticed several things.

\- There was someone next to him, chanting something

\- There was the scent of blood on the air

\- He couldn't hear Cedric breathing

Harry panicked, and shot upright, about to shout for Madame Pomfrey, when he realized who, exactly, was standing next to his bed. His eyes met Sirius' eyes, and his godfather gave him a wan smile around the Latin pouring form his mouth. The second person, who was closer to him, was Professor Snape, uttering something in a weird, lilting language that was pleasing to the ears, doubly so when combined with Sirius' slightly higher tenor. Harry chanced a glance at Cedric, and blinked.

His face was flushed, and he was breathing easier, whilst the hole in his side was closing, slowly but surely, under the light from Snape's wand, while Sirius' was pressed to Cedric's chest, where the broken rib was. Both men were speaking quietly, and Harry could practically _taste_ the magic that was winding around the bed.

They finished, and Harry felt almost empty when the magic disappeared. Sirius came over to him, and perched on the side of his bed, ruffling his hair before pulling him into a hug.

"If anyone asks, I wasn't here. I went home late last night to prepare for your return. Professor Snape came to deliver potions before he returned home for a family emergency that he received at dinner last night."

"It's good to see you, Siri." Harry mumbled into his godfather's chest, and he felt Sirius laugh softly.

"I'll give Remus your regards. See you in a week."

"Black, we must leave. The Pomfrey is waking." Snape urged, waving his wand over Cedric one last time, before sweeping the curtains aside. With a kiss on Harry's forehead, Sirius was gone, both he and Snape melting into the shadows.

.

Harry looked at the Hufflepuff sleeping peacefully now, and tilted his head.

"So Professor Snape is a better healer than Madame Pomfrey? I wasn't expecting that."

.

.

.

 **There you go. READ AND REVIEW!**

 **The poem quoted by Karl Liert is one of mine, so please, no plagiarizing. The script on the back of Evangeline Rosier is from 'Beauty from Pain' by Superchic[k]. Great song.**

 **Cheers,**

 **Siofra.**


	5. What Happens in Slytherin

**Ugh, school is over, I failed three exams, and I'm unemployed. Yep, motivation levels aren't high, so please Review after Reading.**

 **.**

 **.**

.

It was all her fault, Harry had decided.

.

Her, with her horrendously pink outfits, and the childish giggles that made your insides shrivel up in revulsion and loathing, and the cough that created fanfares of doom for all who heard it. Her flat, toad-like face twisted into a mockery of a smile, with that black bow that reminded him of a fly perched on her head.

.

Oh yes, it was most certainly the fault of High Inquisitor Dolores Umbridge.

.

First it was the little things, like supervising classes, making notes and asking irritating questions; digging into the personal lives of the teachers and pissing them all off beyond measure. Then the not so subtle introduction of the Educational Decrees, and the blatant dorm inspection of _only_ Slytherin house (so Theo had said, and neither Susan Bones or Morag had mentioned dorm inspections), and detentions on a regular basis to first and second-year snakes, even the third years, who had, admittedly, two decent instructors before the Toad, and the firsties didn't know that they _needed to keep their mouths shut in her presence_. Lina Sorley in first year Slytherin had come to him in tears after a nasty detention which involved a _kriffing blood quill_ , of all things. It was only the fact that Lina was a muggle-raised half-blood, like himself, that prevented him from challenging Umbridge on her methods or punishment. Who would believe a half-blood student over a pure-blood adult?

Never mind if Lina's grandfather was head of the Magical Clan of Lamont; one of the last Scottish Clans to wield magic throughout the generations, and was capable of ending Umbridge then and there, if he ever got word that his youngest member was being tortured.

.

No one hurt his tutor-students and got away with it.

.

The final straw, or maybe it was the second-to-last straw, was investigating all family history of the teachers, as well as personal history. Professor Babbling had been put on probation after his dabbling in illegal rituals was found out, and McGonagall herself had Dark dealings (she'd formed a Magical Triad with some witches in her village, and had saved the town from bombings over the summers during World War Two. But she'd been seen by Muggles). The only problem, was that the Toad was going in alphabetical order of last name, and read all her findings out to the Great Hall during the now compulsory breakfast times.

.

Today was 'S', and there were three people with that last name.

Skalko.

Sinistra.

Snape.

.

Harry was nervous, but not for himself. No, for his unofficial Head of House and mentor.

.

To make matters worse, Umbridge had managed to get a hold of some device that played memories from touch, so she would force each person to touch it, and their memories were displayed for the entire school to see, no matter how embarrassing, inappropriate or personal. Harry knew that Professor Snape was many things, but a touchy-feely person who enjoyed their dirty laundry being aired to everyone was not one of them. He just hoped that when it was Snape's turn, Voldemort didn't come up. Or Lily Potter, because that would mean awkward explanations to everyone else. Or anything from his school days, because that was just _painful._

.

Snape even _looked_ nervous about this whole debacle; a far cry from his normally impassive features.

.

.

They were watching the device play Skalko's memories from his school days, when he was tutoring children in the Dark Arts at Durmstrang. Out of all the teachers, Skalko was the newest; replacing the Magical Theory teacher two years ago, and proving to be popular with the masses. Skalko was also 1 year older than Sinistra, and 2 years older than Vector and Snape, who was up next after this.

The image changed to the Second Wizarding War, with Skalko fighting against Death Eaters in a back alley, and killing them all. Unlike the first time it had happened, no one screamed. The horrors seen by Flitwick, McGonagall, Dumbledore and even Hagrid had numbed the student's reactions to violence. The image above flickered, then died away, Skalko collapsing on the floor, his legs no longer holding him up. Immediately, Vector and Babbling moved towards him, supporting him and helping him to his staff chair. Sinistra swallowed heavily as she stood up, and Umbridge cleared her throat.

" _Hem, hem._ Aurora Silvana Sinistra,' there were sniggers from the males, and Sinistra blushed, but rolled her eyes, '31 years of age, born 23rd February, 1979, in Geneva. Attended Hogwarts after her application to Beauxbatons was declined due to low marks in mathematics and…physical education. Scored 8 OWLS; 4 O's, 3 EE's and 1 A. 8 NEWTS; 5 O's, 3 EE's. Has Masteries in Astronomy and Lunar Magic. Please place your hand on the orb, Professor Sinistra."

Aurora, almost on reflex, looked back at Snape for some reason, and he raised an eyebrow, nodding. She took a deep breath, and placed her hand on the orbs, her body stiffening as soon as she made contact.

.

 _A young Aurora walked next to a young Severus, hair in a long braid down the middle of her back, eyes gazing up at the ceiling. Severus had a hand on her arm, and was towing her along, preventing her from stopping at the sight and causing a scene._

 _A much younger Professor McGonagall stood at the front, holding a scroll, and calling out names. A few stood out from the crowd._

 _Sirius Black._

 _Amelia Bones._

 _Lily Evans._

 _Remus Lupin._

 _Peter Pettigrew._

 _James Potter._

 _Evan Rosier._

 _Finally, McGonagall called out "Aurora Sinistra!" and Aurora made her way to the stool, sitting down on it cautiously, before the Sorting Hat was placed on her head, falling over her eyes._

 _'Ahhh, Ms Sinistra, I've been expecting you. Don't panic, I will sort you into your house…no, there is always a place for everyone at Hogwarts…Beauxbatons don't know what they're missing out on…a fascination with the stars? My dear girl, what a remarkable hobby…if only I could see that stars once again…where to put you, where to put you…a healthy dose of ambition, and the cunning to pull it off, but a strong desire to learn…my dear girl, you only met him on the train, yet fiercely loyal already…plenty of bravery, especially being able to cope with being that high up…a strong sense of justice; that will serve you well…which is it to be, Slytherin or Ravenclaw?...no, the dungeons would suit you ill; not enough freedom for you…better be…_

 _"RAVENCLAW!"_

 _._

 _A slightly older Aurora and Severus moved around a bubbling cauldron; chopping, slicing or stirring at random intervals. Aurora moved to put something in, but a hand grabbing her wrist stopped her._

 _"Baneberry, then the foxglove. Do keep up, Rory."_

 _"Fuck up, Sev." Aurora retorted, swapping ingredients, and tossing the correct one in. "Hey, have you noticed that the directions for this sound like something from Macbeth?"_

 _Severus snorted._

 _"And thus do go about, about. Thrice to mine and thrice to thine, and thrice once more to make up nine. Peace, the charms wound up."_

 _Aurora giggled, and stared at him._

 _"All hail Macbeth, hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor."_

 _Severus stuck his nose in the air._

 _"That's "Shalt be King hereafter", to you, traitorous MacDuff."_

 _"Silence, murderer, whose name now blisters the tongue."_

 _"Double, double, toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble."_

 _"The Thane of Fife had a wife; where is she now?"_

 _"Screwing Macbeth, because his wife is barren and secretly sleeping with Duncan."_

 _Aurora paused in her stirring, and stared at him._

 _"That wasn't in Macbeth."_

 _Severus shrugged, and then eyed the newt remains on his hands._

 _"Will these hands ne'er be clean?"_

 _Aurora laughed, and started to tidy up the station, as Severus set the timer for the potion, looking into the cauldron._

 _"And it looks like another O for us, Rory."_

 _Aurora pumped her fist._

 _"It shall be so. The Grandmaster of Snark and Potions decrees it."_

 _._

 _"Sev, you trying out for your Quidditch team?"_

 _Both Aurora and Severus were sitting at the top of the Astronomy tower, charting the stars. Severus looked startled, before he rolled his eyes._

 _"Tell me, who plays on the Gryffindor team?"_

 _"Well, Longbottom is Keeper, then Pettigrew and Casey are Beaters, with Black, Lupin and Potter…oh."_

 _"I'd be a Bludger sponge, and Evan has expressed his desire for me to remain in one piece so that I can help him with our Runes project."_

 _"But Evan is Chaser already, isn't he? You have Malfoy as keeper, the Lestrange brothers as Beaters, and Rosier is the only remaining Chaser, since Bellatrix and Nott graduated last year. Two spots open, Sev, and you're good on a broom. It'd be neat if you and Regulus got on the team."_

 _Severus looked at the sky._

 _"Yeah…" he muttered, sounding unconvinced._

 _._

 _Everything flashed quicker._

 _._

 _Aurora walking into Hogsmeade with Severus and a tall blonde with dreamy blue eyes, discussing plants in relation to the lunar cycle._

 _._

 _Sitting in the Great Hall, staring up at the ceiling while others scribbled frantically on their papers during OWLS._

 _._

 _Duelling Severus in preparation for their NEWTS._

 _._

 _Sleeping on a couch in the Ravenclaw common room with paper scattered everywhere._

 _._

 _War._

 _Screaming in pain as a Crucio hit its mark. A spell slashing her collarbone, and another taking off half of her left ear. A roar of fury, and a dark clad figure slaughtering her attackers._

 _._

 _Healing a long gash on Severus' leg after he'd collapsed at her door._

 _._

 _A kiss shared between herself and Septima Vector during Lughnasadh, tasting of honey and strawberries._

 _._

 _Receiving her Masteries, feeling the pure magic rush through her veins in an intoxicating wave._

 _._

 _The end of the war, holding Severus as he cried at Lily's death._

 _._

 _._

" _ENOUGH!"_

The scream came from Sinistra, who yanked her hand away from the orb and dropped to the ground, shaking. Her skin was pallid, and she looked about five seconds away from vomiting. She lifted her head, and glared at Umbridge.

"Fuck off, bitch. The only person allowed inside my head is me."

Harry raised his eyebrows, and sniggered behind his hand when Sinistra stood up, and flipped off Umbridge. Umbridge looked rattled, before she pulled out the next file.

"Severus Tobias Snape-Prince, 29 years of age, born 9th January 1980 in Yorkshire. Tested… _THIS IS PREPOSTUROUS!"_ Harry, and many others near him, winced at the high decibels, and shook his head.

"Files are self-updating, and no one can tamper with them. All true. _Unfortunately."_ He muttered at the end. Umbridge shot him a glare, but continued, her voice cold with fury.

"Tested into Hogwarts at age 10, joined the graduating class of 1997. Top of his Muggle primary school. 12 OWLS; 11 O's, 1 EE. 12 NEWTS; 10 O's, 2 EE's. Masteries in Dark Arts and Defence Against, Potions, Spellcrafting and Mind Arts. Please place your hand on the orb, _Professor_."

The last words was infused with so much venom, Harry was surprised that Snape didn't melt into a pile of steaming goo on the floor. No, instead he watched as Snape cautiously reached out his hand, hesitating, before his fingers curved over the ball, and his body stiffened.

 _._

* * *

 _._

 _A small, skinny dark-haired boy hung upside down in a tree, hanging on by his legs, eyes closed as the wind drifted through his hair. In the distance, a small river ran through a field, and heather dotted the grass._

 _"SEVERUS! GET OU' OF THA' TREE THIS INSTANT!"_

 _A female voice shrieked, and Severus startled, sliding off the branch and twisting awkwardly to land on his feet, stumbling against the tree. A tall, stately woman stormed out of the small cottage, and made a beeline for Severus, grabbing him by his ear._

 _"How many times have I told you NO' T' EXPERIMENT WI' POTIONS WHEN I'M NO' HOME?! HOW MANY?!"_

 _Severus winced._

 _"More than twenty, Ma."_

 _Her dark blue eyes flashed, and then she sighed, brushing her black hair out of her face._

 _"Then why dinnae ya listen t' me?"_

 _Severus bit his lip, and looked at the ground._

 _"Sorry, Mam. I' won't happen again."_

 _Eileen Prince knelt down next to her eldest child, and pulled him into a hug. Severus leaned into it, and smiled slightly._

 _"Severus, it's no' tha' I disapprove, but more t' fact that you're seven. I shouldnae even let you be around hot fires and boiling cauldrons. Just…dinnae take anything for granted when I' comes t' Potions, and…be careful."_

 _Severus looked up at his mother, a crooked grin on his lips._

 _"Always."_

 _._

* * *

 _._

 _"Ah, young Master Snape, or is it Prince? I've been expecting you. I remember your mother; Slytherin, almost a Ravenclaw, went on to challenge the laws of Magic herself. Brilliant woman. Now, where to put you…experimenting and improving potions at seven? Marvellous…most adults would have trouble with that…ah, you father does, but he reasons as long as you have supervision…a talent in combat…I don't see that often nowadays… already have connections outside the school from the family business…yes, your blood have always been opportunists…where to put you…Hufflepuff would suit you ill…not a very welcoming person, are you? But you do have loyalty to those who earn it, such as Ms Sinistra and Ms Evans…you do have a tremendous amount of bravery…Gryffindor would give you a place…you wish to earn your way? A most Ravenclaw mindset…but with your heritage it's no wonder…but Ravenclaw would restrict you…no, they don't really share their knowledge these days…I see your cousin has inherited the Prince curse…you have some of it, but not much…those repressors of your uncle's work wonders…an ambition to prove that you are more than just a name on a graduating role…my dear boy, you are younger than many of the students I normally sort…that leads to the question: Gryffindor or Slytherin?...Slytherin ambition, dear lad…no…second thoughts… Gryffindor would suit you ill…especially with that temper…Slytherin will teach you control…better be…SLYTHERIN!"_

 _Severus exhaled the breath that he'd been holding, and made his way to the sedately clapping silver-green sea. Taking a seat next to a red-haired boy, who he vaguely remembered as Evan Rosier, he offered a raised eyebrow to the ravenette prefect, who seemed to be dissecting him with her gaze. She smirked, and leaned in closer, even as the sorting ended._

 _"Snape isn't a Wizarding name."_

 _Severus blinked._

 _"No, it's a Yorkshire name. It's where me da's clan is from."_

 _The prefect jerked back as if she'd been shocked, and narrowed her eyes._

 _"Your mother's name." She demanded._

 _"Bellatrix, just leave it." A small voice came from a petite, blonde second year._

 _"Hush, Cissy. Well?"_

 _Severus bit his lip._

 _"Eileen. Eileen Prince."_

 _There were shocked intakes of breath, and Bellatrix smirked._

 _"Well, Slytherin, looks like we got a Prince in our house. Welcome to Slytherin, Severus Prince. I'm Bellatrix Black, 6_ _th_ _year prefect. If you have any problems, you can come to me."_

 _Severus wasn't stupid; he understood the offer that she'd just made. He nodded to her, acknowledging her offer, and eyed the pumpkin juice with barely concealed disgust._

 _"Have they ne'er heard of water?" he muttered, causing the boy next to him, Rosier, to snort into his hand._

 _"Eat up quickly, my lovelies,' Bellatrix cooed, wrapping an arm around the nearest first year and squeezing them tightly, 'dear Ol' Sluggy wants to speak with you all before bedtime."_

 _"Bella, you're being a creep." A tall, muscled boy with dark brown hair, pushed her good-naturedly._

 _"But Rod…" Bella whined, and the brunette looked pointedly at the first year she was still hugging. Bella blinked._

 _"Point taken."_

 _There was a tap on his shoulder, and Severus spun, and came face to face with a tall blonde, who reminded him vaguely of an elf from Lord of the Rings._

 _"Lucius Malfoy, 4_ _th_ _year prefect. The brunette currently trying to convince Bellatrix Black to stop suffocating the firstie is Rodolphus Lestrange, 5_ _th_ _year prefect. If any of you need any help, just shout out, okay? We Slytherin's take care of our own."_

 _Severus decided that Slytherin was definitely the better end of the deal._

 _._

* * *

 _._

 _"Oi! Snivellus! Wants some hair with that grease?"_

 _"Bastard." Evan muttered, shooting a dirty glare at Potter and Black, who were giggling with each other. Severus sniffed haughtily, treading carefully so as to not upset the balance he had maintained with his coltish arms and legs that are far too big for his twelve-year old body, and the numerous tomes stacked in his arms._

 _"I'd like t' see him come out of a Potion's lab with perfect hair after brewing all day." He drawled, doing his best to imitate Lucius Malfoy's high-class accent, but his natural accent inevitably slipped through. Evan sniggered, and smirked at Severus._

 _"How long do you think he spends in front of the mirror to get his hair so…artistically tossed?"_

 _"More than what's normal for an actual boy, tha's for sure." Severus whispered dramatically. "But, then again, look who he hangs out with. Blacks are notorious for hogging t' mirrors more fiercely than a dragon guards its treasure."_

 _Evan burst out laughing, perfect white teeth flashing._

 _"That's true. You should see the Black Sisters fight over the bathroom during Yule holidays, before the ball. It's a nightmare."_

 _"I forgo' tha' you were related. But, are you sure that Malfoy isnae some distant relation? I heard Greengrass complain t' Lestrange about how much time he spends in t' bathroom."_

 _Evan laughed again._

 _"Everyone is distantly related, even the Muggleborns. I bet, that if we looked through their family trees, magically, we'd find a disowned squib somewhere along the lines. Hey, maybe your dad had a squib ancestor."_

 _Severus stiffened, and shook his head, a wry grin touching his lips for a mere fraction of a second._

 _"No. Me Da's side is much more…volatile than that. Makes t' Prince Madness seem like a mild mind-altering drug in comparison. Well, granted, the right circumstances have to come int' play, and I' depends if they've had an outlet for the excess." He mused, tilting his head to one side, and running a hand that wasn't covered in ink and holding tomes through his hair. Evan stared at him, amused._

 _"Sometimes I wonder what goes through your mind."_

 _"You shouldn't,' Severus patted Evan on the shoulder, 'it's best you remain in ignorance. Ignorance is bliss."_

 _"Knowledge is Power." Evan retorted, a quirk of the lips giving away his intentions._

 _"War is peace, Freedom is slavery, and Ignorance is strength." Severus intoned._

 _Evan stared at him, confused, and Severus waved his hand._

 _"Muggle book. I'll lend I' t' you, and you'll never look at them t' same way. It makes Xeno's conspiracies seem mild."_

 _Evan rolled his eyes._

 _"I can hardly wait."_

 _._

* * *

 _._

 _"Hey, Sev! Guess what?"_

 _Severus sighed, and raised an eyebrow over the essay he was currently writing; 3_ _rd_ _year Tranfiguration._

 _"Sev! Sev! Guess what?"_

 _"I heard you the first time, Reggie. Try not to wear out my name too much." His voice was a fraction deeper, and he seemed to have lost most of his accent, although he still rolled his 'r's in the way that was unique to his hometown._

 _Severus was suddenly faced with a mop of unruly, curly black hair, and pleading grey eyes._

 _"You know how Bella and that other guy left, so now Slytherin has two Chaser spots?"_

 _Severus narrowed his eyes._

 _"What of it?"_

 _"Weeeeellllllll…I was wondering if you wanted to try out with me?"_

 _Faced with an adorable pout, and wide, moon-like eyes, Severus felt himself start to crumble, like many of the older Slytherins did when faced with the unstoppable force that was Regulus Black when he wanted something. While Sirius Black was loud, brash and obnoxious, Regulus was sly, subtle, and Slytherin to his chocolate-craving core._

 _"Um…well…"_

 _"Pleeeeeeeaaaaassssseeee? I'll help you with Transfiguration?"_

 _Severus looked at his messy, ink-splotted Transfiguration essay, where he'd crossed out, re-written and revised the same paragraph numerous times, and then looked at the increasingly hopeful second year._

 _"Fine. But I don't have a broom."_

 _Regulus beamed, and grabbed Severus' tie, pulling him forward._

 _"Great! Get into something that you'll be comfortable in that won't rip or be cold, and don't worry about the broom; Bella left hers with me, but I already have one, so…"_

 _Severus blinked, and moved automatically, as Regulus prattled on about how Black's always had to at least try out for the Quidditch team, and how Evan had smashed his try-outs by catching the Snitch a total of twelve times in an hour, and how Bellatrix had scored the most goals, and Narcissa didn't get in, but she was a decent keeper, and it was only because Adrian Greengrass was male that he got in and she didn't. Andromeda had been captain, and had passed it on to Bellatrix after she graduated, but really, Andy was the most vicious Beater Hogwarts had seen since McGonagall fractured someone's skull in the Ravenclaw/ Gryffindor final in her seventh year. Sirius had made Gryffindor by being a damn good Chaser, and Regulus had always wanted to play against his brother in an actual match._

 _Only a few words summed up his situation._

 _"I'm so screwed."_

 _._

* * *

 _._

 _"Nervous?"_

 _Severus turned, and came face to face with Lucius Malfoy; Quidditch Captain and Head Boy. His hair, now growing out after the death of his father, was tied back much like his; a French braid courtesy of Narcissa Black. The Slytherin robes hung off his tall frame, and his broom, a Nimbus 1987, was slung over his shoulder. In comparison, Severus felt like the ugly duckling, who would never turn into a swan; more like a vulture._

 _"Yeah, I guess. It's stupid though, because this is the 2_ _nd_ _time we've been in the final, yet…"_

 _"You're still nervous. It feels like your first game against Gryffindor, and you're a second year on a team full of seniors, and the Gryffindor team are all much bigger, more experienced, and can't wait to tear you to shreds."_

 _Severus stared at him, eyes wide, and Lucius gave him a rueful grin._

 _"It's shocking, huh? Lucius Malfoy; Head Boy, Quidditch Captain, Lord of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Malfoy, and dating a Black seriously, still gets nervous playing in a game against Gryffindor. Don't worry though,' Lucius gave Severus a wicked grin, 'I'm sure that you'll have more things to worry about by the time we're out on the pitch."_

 _Severus blinked, and Lucius stood on the bench next to him, giving a shrill, high pitched whistle that grabbed everyone's attention._

 _"ALRIGHT, SHUT UP! This is mine and Adrian's last game, and it's against Gryffindor, so we'd better win, or else. Adrian; nothing gets through. Rabastan and Christian; you'd better hit the Bludger right, because if you hit one of us, you'll be singing soprano in front of the common room tonight. Sev, Reggie; you drop or fumble I'll hand you over to Cattermole and Parks to have their wicked way with you. Evan, eyes on the Snitch, but make sure that we'll win if you catch it, and interfere with plays only if strictly necessary."_

 _Lucius paused in his speech, and raked his cold, granite eyes across his team._

 _"Because, merde, we've come too far, worked too damn hard for too damn long to lose to a bunch of reckless, egotistical, hare-brained lions who only got through because they're favoured by Dumbledore. Team huddle; Adrian, lead us off."_

 _They all gathered around, arms looped over backs and around waists, heads bent in the middle. A tall, slender brunette knelt in the middle, and gave a feral grin to them all._

 _"Slytherin on 3! 1, 2, 3…"_

 _"SLYTHERIN!"_

 _The cry echoed off the stone walls of the Quidditch locker rooms, and distantly, Severus could hear the chanting between the four Houses; Slytherin and Hufflepuff vs. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Lucius mounted his broom, and shoot out of the changing rooms and onto the pitch, everyone following close behind._

 _._

 _"And here comes the Slytherin team, in the final for the 20_ _th_ _year in a row, ever since Calum Urquhart captained the team, and continued by Andromeda and Bellatrix Black, and finally, captain Lucius Malfoy. MALFOY. GREENGRASS. LESTRANGE. GREENGRASS. BLACK. SNAPE and ROOOSSSIIIEEERRRRR!"_

 _Snape eyed up his rivals and opposite Chasers; Potter, Black and newcomer McLagan, Keeper Longbottom, and Beaters Lupin and Pettigrew. He caught James' Potter's eyes, and grinned a feral grin._

 _'_ Game on.' _He mouthed._

 _._

 _It was fast, brutal, and in an entire league of its own. His shoulder had already been dislocated once, shoved harshly back into place by a Bludger aimed directly at his face from Pettigrew. His nose was broken, but had thankfully stopped bleeding around the two-hour mark, and his hands were going numb. They were in the lead, thanks to a combination of him being a Bludger sponge and all the attention was on him and not Lucius or Reggie, and Adrian giving any professional Keeper a run for their money. Longbottom was holding up well, and the score was currently 260-120 (six penalties and a few rebounds)._

 _Now, however, found Severus barrel-rolling down the pitch in order to avoid Bludgers fired at him, increasingly glad that he'd had the foresight to take an Anti-Nausea potion before the game, the Quaffle tucked securely underneath his arm. A steep dive ensured that he avoided Black, and a sharp turn to the right got rid of McLagan. Then it was a game of chicken with Potter. When the timing was right, Severus dropped the Quaffle…_

 _…Into the waiting hands of Lucius Malfoy, who speed towards the goal, blonde hair streaming behind him, the braid falling apart in the high velocity winds. Then, it was just him and Longbottom, and he drew back his arm to throw…_

 _…just as a Bludger smashed into the middle of his back, knocking him from his broom to plummet 20 feet to the ground. Severus sped towards his friend, his peripheral vision seeing Evan streak downwards towards where Pettigrew was smirking, hand outstretched. Severus was gaining._

 _10 feet._

 _2 meters._

 _5 feet._

 _Fingertips._

 _2 feet._

 _Hand._

 _._

 _Both Severus and Lucius smashed into the ground, the momentum flipping Severus over so that instead of landing on his back, Severus managed to turn Lucius slightly so that he landed on his shoulder, and he himself rolled on impact with the cold ground. The roar of the crowd drowned out the sickening_ crack _of Lucius' shoulder and most likely a few ribs as he landed, and Severus felt his shoulder dislocate yet again, along with a sharp pain in his neck that travelled down his spine._

 _They lay there, mud seeping into his robes, Lucius gasping for breath, Severus paralysed from the shoulders down. He knew instantly that something was wrong; he must have bruised his spine badly, maybe even a little fracture, but he couldn't for the life of him, remember why it was important that he stayed still. He knew he had to, he just didn't know why._

 _"AND ROSIER CATCHES THE SNITCH! A NASTY CRASH BY MALFOY AND SNAPE, MADAME POMFREY IS ON HER WAY!"_

 _"Thanks." Lucius finally managed to wheeze out, and Severus gives a small huff in reply, his voice not working properly. He could vaguely feel his fingers going numb, and he spotted the rest of the team landing nearby, Adrian collecting their brooms, while Reggie stood to the side, face slightly green, as Sirius landed next to his brother and pulled him into a hug, turning him away from the sight of his Captain and friend lying motionless on the ground._

 _Then Madame Pomfrey was there, levitating them onto stretchers and pulling scanning them with her wand. Severus couldn't help the involuntary cry of pain as his back was jolted, and immediately Evan was there, squeezing his hand._

 _"Where does it hurt?" His voice was a slightly higher pitch than normal, and Severus chalked it up to concern, but he still couldn't answer, nor could he move his hands. He settled for meeting Evan's eyes, and tried to give him a reassuring look._

 _"Sev! Luc! What's wrong?" That was Narcissa, jogging towards them, panic and worry written all over the normally stoic face._

 _"Ms Black, excellent timing. Perhaps you could take Mr Malfoy to the Hospital Wing, while I see to Mr Snape. It seems as though he has a severe back injury."_

 _"Sev, why won't you talk?" Evan begged, squeezing his hand harder._

 _Before he completely blacked out, Severus saw Regulus and Sirius make their way over to their distraught cousin, pulling him away from the stretcher and most likely taking him to the kitchens. Then it was sweet oblivion._

 _._

* * *

 _._

 _Severus was older, around 15, and scribbling notes in pencil onto paper on a battered kitchen table. It was clearly summer; Severus was in a white t-shirt and worn black shorts, skin a healthy glow from sunlight, with a smattering of freckles across his nose. His hair was tied up and away from his neck, and he was barefoot._

 _The door slammed open, and a man very similar to Severus, but with streaks of grey in his own sable hair, and a heavier jaw line, and a mouth twisted into a frown, face covered with spots of grease and dust. Severus jerked his head up when he entered, and was frowning._

 _"You're back early, Da. Did somethin' happen a' t' mill?"_

 _"Where's your ma?"_

 _"Ou' back, in t' shed. What's goin' on?"_

 _Tobias Snape looked at his only son._

 _"Town meetin' in 10. You'd better come to. Don't bother changin'."_

 _Severus looked at his father's dark countenance._

 _"I'll get Ma, you clean up a bit. She'll throw a fit if she sees you like tha'. How bad is it?"_

 _The elder Snape sighed, and sank into a chair._

 _"It's very bad, son. T' mill is bein' closed down."_

 _._

 _The town hall was packed, with the men who worked at the mill standing in a tight group, Severus' father among them. Eileen was with the other women, calming down some of the more hysterical ones with a special brew of tea (laced generously with calming draught) while Severus made a beeline for the teens, hoisting himself up on the stage in between a stunning red-head with emerald green eyes, and an older teen who looked near-identical to Severus._

 _"Lily, Cousin Brán."_

 _"Sev."_

 _"Hiyah, cousin Sev. A lo' of to-do 'round here." Bran drawled, leaning back on his hands. "Any idea what it's about? Will I need to call my Da?"_

 _"T' mill is closin' down, that's all Da said." Bran looked at him._

 _"Shit."_

 _"I heard you received your Potion's Mastery last week, Sev. Congratulations. Youngest in over a century?" Lily exclaimed, slapping Severus on the shoulder, her upper-class York accent a stark contrast from the dialect that the two cousins spoke. Severus nodded._

 _"T' certificate came yester-morn. We were goin' t' celebrate t'night."_

 _"Good luck with tha'." Bran scoffed, eyeing the chattering mob. "I dinnae think anyone's goin' t' be celebratin' after this mess. Mayhap Da will need t' come anyways."_

 _._

 _"ORDER! THERE WILL BE ORDER!" The headman hollered from the pulpit, paper scattered across the lectern. "Simmer down, if ya please!"_

 _Grumbling, many took their seats, and a tense silence followed._

 _"Now, if ya all keep calm, t' mill is indeed being closed down. T' company that backed us went bankrupt, and trade is being moved overseas t' China. Cheaper, apparently, but less quality."_

 _"Are they gonna be compensatin' us?" Someone called from the workers section, and the headman shook his head._

 _"We're not worth t' trouble. Some fancy bigwig will be inspectin' t' mill to see if I' meets up wi' the safety act, but other than tha' we need ideas. T' mill will be ours t' use, so wood is still in t' works. Ideas, anyone?"_

 _"Carpentry." A woman with thick, bulging arms called out, clothes dusty. "We know wood, let's stick t' it."_

 _"Is there a market, though?" An elderly man asked, standing from his seat. "No' much good makin' things if there t'ain't a market."_

 _"Could be a side." Another woman placated the first. "Somethin' extra t' do. Give the place a little recognition for quality woodwork as well as somethin' else."_

 _"Expand t' quarry! We always need more workers!" Someone yelled, and then it descended into chaos from there. Others argued for, while some continued to throw out ideas, and from their seat on the stage, Severus, Lily and Brán watched with the rest of the teens._

 _"This is stupid." Lily sighed. "Nothing will get done."_

 _"You got any ideas?" Brán snorted at her, and Lily shrugged._

 _"Nothing substantial, at any rate. They'll bomb out in a few years, and some require training, which, no offense, most of them don't have. You?"_

 _"Nothin'. Well, nothin' tha's legal, anyways." Lily looked at him askance, and Brán turned to his cousin, who had been strangely silent throughout the proceedings. "Sev? Your thoughts?"_

 _Severus was silent, one finger tracing his pale, thin lips._

 _"We could make alcohol."_

 _._

 _Silence fell in the hall as the townsfolk turned, as one, to stare at the only Snape child, who flushed under the scrutiny and ducked his head, lacking his normal black curtains of hair to hide behind. Brán and Lily also stared at him, Brán with a thoughtful look upon his face, while Lily stared at him in confusion._

 _"Perhaps ya would like t' elaborate, laddie." The headman broke the silence, and Severus blushed harder, but looked up to meet his eyes._

 _"Alcohol. Lord knows we drink enough of the stuff."_

 _"Severus…" Lily dragged out._

 _"No, really." Severus hopped down from the stage, and started pacing. "I'm no' talkin' about all tha' common stuff tha' anyone with a cauldron, potatoes and essences can make, nor tha' cat piss tha' they serve in high-end places, I'm talking 'bout craft beer and spirits; weird, and new and different flavours tha' people havenae heard of."_

 _"Where're you goin' with this, son?" Tobias rumbled from his position by the stage, dark eyes meeting dark eyes, one filled with excitement, the other with reserve, yet slowly filling with hope. Severus turned to face his mother._

 _"We would have a greater base of support if we turned to…to t' other sort as well."_

 _Eileen stood, then, and pierced her son with a sharp gaze._

 _"The dark ones?" Severus nodded, and Eileen sighed, before turning to her husband, who nodded in support._

 _"Someone explain, if ya please." Someone yelled, and Severus stood up straighter, opening his palm, face up, and watching as a small burst of flame flickered to life to hover just above his skin, blue flames and all._

 _"Newsflash; magic is real, so are witches, wizards, werewolves, vampires, hags, Fae, pixies, unicorns and dragons. In t' Wizarding World, many of these creatures aren't allowed t' work, or be served in 'proper Wizarding establishments'." He mimicked, causing a ripple of laughter at the high class accent, and lessening the blow that yes, magic was real, by mocking the upper class that many of the working class hated._

 _"Many of these creatures are forced t' find work in t' Muggle, or t' mundane world. If we became a pro-dark creature establishment, then no' only would I' be good for business, but for t' community as well."_

 _"Safety measures would have to be put into place." Eileen added, still staring at her son, though now it was with pride. "Full moon especially. Basements can be refitted, though. We'd have to sit down and work out t' details, later."_

 _"I'm in." cried a woman next to Eileen. "I know a few werewolves that use m' basement every full moon that are hard done by. It'd be nice t' see them able t' have a pint after t' transformation."_

 _Shouts of agreement rang out from across the hall, and Severus caught his father's gaze. He was taken aback by the pride evident within, but managed a small smile, to which his father nodded, and mouthed 'well done'. He extinguished the flame by crushing it in his palm, before turning to Brán._

 _"Take that back to your da, Brán. We could use his expertise and business knowledge."_

 _Brán hopped down from the stage, and clapped his cousin on the back._

 _"I think he'll be very pleased. Expect to be summoned to meet him within the next few weeks."_

 _With that, he turned and left, leaving Severus to stare at his retreating back, wondering what the hell had just happened, and questioning just when exactly had his cousin started to speak proper Queen's English._

 _._

 _._

* * *

 _._

Harry frowned as the images warped and blurred, voices becoming indistinct and muffled. Judging by the teachers reactions, and the darkening look on Umbitch's, this wasn't supposed to be happening. Little flashes of clarity occurred, but they were out of context, and made no sense.

There was flash, and Harry saw his mother walking away from a group, while another was of another red-head, this one a smaller girl, twisting fire around her hands. Another flash was a tall, grey-haired man who radiated power, hooked nose and cheekbones identical to Professor Snape's, sitting on a throne-like chair, staring down at a younger Severus. His cousin, Brán, older, dressed in black armour and screaming a war cry as he swung a claymore amongst legions of feral vampires, while a smaller woman with the same features wielded two flaming daggers at his back.

There was the sky, blue and flawless, and a green field with a small copse of trees next to a small creek, dotted with lupines, which a child ran through, white blonde curls flying behind her as she chased something only she could see, giggles bubbling out of her being. Two dark-haired twins whooped war-cries as they sped past on horses, and a small boy drew a picture of a wolf holding a sword in its mouth, a serpent encircling the world. Another set of twins, this time girls, dancing around a bonfire under starlight, sable hair swinging behind them as their shadows twisted and curved into the likeness of dragons. A brunet, carving runes into a shaft of wood, while a girl inserted a glistening stone into a small hole on a staff. Another girl with chocolate hair danced with her brother, tartan trailing behind them as they laughed, their feet beating a tattoo that merged with the music while a ravenette sawed at a fiddle with reckless abandon.

.

A red sky, and ash drifting down like grey snow, while flashes of coloured light split the air, screams ringing through the night, and voices yelled themselves hoarse in an attempt to be the better wizard, to win their respective duels, as bone white masks bleed red in the firelight. Blood and gore splattered black cloaks, and one moved with a limp, another with a black hole where his right eye used to be, before a spell zinged out of a window and exploded on the ground in front of them. A Dark Mark hanging in the sky, glowing a putrid green, and smoke swirling into the sky to block out the moon.

.

A vision in a simple white celtic dress with flowing sleeves, and white jasmine woven through fiery curls, and a shy smile curving at red lips, roses clenched into sweaty palms. A kiss of peppermint and nervousness, before a cheers from a small crowd breaks the silence.

.

A different red-head, with empty green eyes lying on the floor in front of a cot, while a black-haired boy screamed, a red lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

.

Celebrations in a pub as the war ends, as a morose group silently toast to their fallen friends in a dark corner.

.

Black robes billowing down the hall, students scattering out of the way, as a man scowls, hair pink and laughter following in his wake. Potion's explosions, and a week in hospital after pushing a student out of the way of a volatile potion. Tan skin fading to sallow with every passing year, shadows growing deeper under black eyes, and exhaustion lining weary shoulders. A shortened temper, lower tolerance, and burnt fingers.

The birth of the Hogwarts Potion's Master.

.

.

* * *

.

Professor Snape dropped to the floor, shaking, barely catching himself on his elbows before his nose hit the floor. A quiet whine echoed through the hall, and Harry leaned forward, frowning, as Umbridge moved to tower over him.

"I recognize you." She hissed. "Spawn of blood-traitors and oath-breakers. Feral, wild creatures, who need to be exterminated!" She spat on the floor next to him. To his credit, Professor Snape merely looked up, and gazed at her with an impassive look.

"I did not murder a child." He uttered, voice clear "because I was afraid of her gifts."

Umbridge recoiled, and Professor Snape hauled himself to his feet, swaying in exhaustion, before straightening his robes, and looking down his nose at her. In that moment, Harry saw with sudden clarity where the power of this conversation lay, and it wasn't in the Ministry's favour.

"I am not a dog." He stated, voice getting stronger and laced with subtle context. "I will not be chained."

.

.

Umbridge stood there, ghost-white, as the Potion's Master exited stage left, robes billowing, and continued standing there, even when Professor McGonagall tried to move her. Harry grinned.

It was nice to see Professor Snape scare someone senseless on a normal day. That it was Umbridge was just a bonus.

.

.

.

 **Oy, that was tiring. So hard to find a good way to end it. On that note, Please give me reviews; I need something to cheer me up.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Regards,**

 **Siofra.**


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